Amor Vincit Omnia
by mini bagel
Summary: Sir Timothy wants to win the hand of the Princess of the kingdom, though a dangerous task is set by the king that he must conquer before they can wed. AU. McGiva.
1. Information

**Amor Vincit Omnia**

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><p>This story was written for Musicnotes093 for the NFA White Elephant Exchange, from the prompt:<p>

[1] Heroes. Wenches, Jesters, and Knights of the Round Table. What do they have in common? Renaissance! In your story, subject the NCIS characters in this setting, whether in an AU, or a celebration of this time period.

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><p><em>Now...<em>

Some information: (Feel free to continue on to the story if you'd like)

Time Period: Early 15th Century, though details are taken from the 14th and others (i.e. Bows are still mainly used, the Enlightenment has not come about yet)  
>Setting: Fictional NCIS-land<br>A very medieval, sort of faire dialect is used throughout, so sentence structure is often more elaborate and formal, knights were quite well educated. Quite a few of the words are out of use now though, so below I've provided some translations, but you're completely free to skip this part.

Anon - Later  
>By your leave - Excuse me or please<br>Comely - pretty  
>Cutpurse- Thief<br>Fie - A curse  
>Grammercy - Thank you<br>Good morrow - Good morning  
>Maid or Maiden - A young woman of upstanding virtue<br>Marry! - An exclamation of shock and surprise  
>Mayhap - Perhaps, maybe<br>Pray tell - Please tell me  
>Prithee - Please<br>Stay - Stop or wait.  
>Tosspot- Drunkard<br>Verily - Very, Truly or Truthfully  
>Wench - A young woman, (Usually used affectionately)<br>Zounds - A curse or exclamation

'tis - it is  
>'twas - it was<br>'twould - it would  
>'twill - it will<br>Shan't - shall not, or will not  
>'twere - it were<p>

Also, a crash course in the difference between thou and you. Thou/thee is used in familiar situations (Friends, family) and when one is speaking to someone lower class wise than themselves. You is used in formal situations (Speaking to royalty) or when speaking to someone of higher class than oneself.

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><p>I hope you guys enjoy this story, fair warning though, I did get all my information from the internet. I did my best verifying info, any mistakes are unintentional. Le internets are not always the most reliable place for accurate information on the middle ages. :)<p>

Reviews are welcomed and met with gratified hugs, though they are not required.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The two men sparred almost gracefully, swords flying through the air and clanging together, sending shivers down the metal and numbing their arms. One laughed out loud, a wide grin on his face, sweat sliding down his forehead.

"Thou cannot best me, surrender now and leave thy dignity intact, good sir!" He called teasingly, drawing his sword back to block a forceful blow from his opponent, eyes gleaming. The other man didn't respond, instead choosing to focus his energy on a quick barrage of attacks to throw his opponent off balance. He bit his lip in concentration, green eyes fierce.

The other man smiled even wider as he stepped lightly backward and ducked to avoid another swipe from the other man's sword. He laughed and dodged around several men carrying a large table.

"Oi! Watch it!" One exclaimed in annoyance as they ducked out of the way of the two men.

"Good morrow, gentlemen! Stay, and be ready to tend to this good man once I am done with him!" The man called gleefully, much to the annoyance of his partner who renewed his efforts, and returned to sparring. They weaved around a crowd of workers, and navigated into a less populated area, dueling all the while.

Finally, the man feinted once, and with the broad side of his sword, came down upon the other man's sword hand. The other man gave a slight yelp as his sword was slapped from his grip and onto the ground. The man then expertly hooked a foot under the leg the other man was focusing his weight on and pulled it out from under him. In the same motion he kicked the sword away from his grasp. The other man thudded heavily to his back on the ground, the breath knocked out of him. The man then pointed the tip of his sword barely a quarter of an inch from the other man's exposed neck. He stilled and glared up at the man, breathing heavily. The man smiled, panting as well.

After a moment of silence, he slid his blade into its sheath and offered the other man a hand, which he took begrudgingly and was pulled to his feet.

"Thou almost had me there." The man said with a measure of pride, removing his breastplate and sighing in relief.

The other man snorted and retrieved his sword, rubbing his left hand, which was now turning a nice shade of bright pink.

"Truly, Tim. Though, of course, thou didst not." The man companionably bumped the other man, called Tim, and walked a bit faster. Tim jogged to catch up, wiping the sweat from his face.

"I let thou win. Next time, Tony-" Tim warned half heartedly before being cut off.

"Aye, aye. Next time, thou will best me. Next time." The man called Tony ribbed, the smile growing. He clapped Tim's shoulder, pushed a piece of sweaty hair out of his eyes and took off running. Tim rolled his eyes and slowed his pace, avoiding the various peasants and workers who scurried around, preparing for the imminent tournament.

He slipped off his breastplate and twisted his back gently in relief, he'd never admit it to the other men, especially not Tony, but the weight of the armor still gave him a bit of trouble, even after the years of training. But he couldn't complain, he was only knighted a few weeks prior. He currently held the title of newest and youngest knight in the lord's army, at barely nineteen years old.

Though the knighthood was something he had dreamed of his whole life. He couldn't believe it when his father had sent him to Lord Vance's estate to be a page. After that, one became a squire for a knight, working incredibly hard for almost no benefit, but then if you can convince your lord, in the late teens and early twenties, one can finally be dubbed a knight.

It was the best day of his life. Though the older more experienced knights and members of the lord's personal army still treated you like…like…a squire. Not the knight he now was. Tim blew a strand of hair out of his face and sidestepped a gaggle of well-dressed young women, he nodded to them and they giggled nervously. Tim's brow crinkled slightly as he mused. With experience came respect, he supposed, this mild hazing was just part of the learning. The growing. Not that it made the act any less irritating.

Of course, one could also gain knighthood the way Tony had. By being injured during a battle while committing an incredibly brave act. It often impresses the lord so much one is declared courageous and proclaimed a knight.

He cut quickly into the rush of people heading to the stands. After a moment, he fought his way out of the river of people and took off running, realizing how late he was. He was going to be late for his first tournament! He stepped up his pace, almost tripping over several children playing in the dirt.

Finally, he skidded into the crowd of fellow knights finishing their last minute preparations. Music and the babble of excited voices were already beginning to lightly rise from the field close by. Butterflies made themselves known in his stomach. He swallowed.

"There thou art!" A voice cried out, the pitch raised by stress. Tim turned and saw someone hurriedly limping toward him.

"Good day, Jimmy." Tim greeted, his cheerfulness a touch forced. He was beginning to feel nauseous.

"The tournament is beginning soon! When thou asked me to help thee just before, I did not realize thou would cut it so close!" Jimmy chastised, half incredibly irritated, half panicked. He grabbed Tim's arm and pulled him off at a surprisingly quick pace.

"I'm sorry. I was sparring with Tony. How art thou, doth thine injuries ail thee any less?" Tim questioned as they sped along and into one of the side tents. Tim slipped back on his breastplate again, adjusting to its weight.

Jimmy avoided the question, instead he began helping Tim put on his armor. Tim gritted his teeth slightly at the sudden increase in weight. "Will thou be competing today?" Jimmy asked with a slight half smile. Fear reared up inside Tim's chest.

"Aye, I will be." Tim answered and swallowed. He winced at his reply, which instead of sounding like a confident and fearless warrior, sounded like a nervous child's. It sounded like he felt. Jimmy gave him a sympathetic look that also clearly said, 'Glad I'm not in your shoes', and put on the last piece of armor.

"Thou do not have to, Tim. I would not think any less of thou if thee didst not." Tim swallowed, he knew he had to. Jimmy might not think less of him, but the others would. Tony would never say it, but he'd be disappointed. "Does thee have a blunted sword?" Tim nodded stiffly and shifted, armor clinking gently. Jimmy turned as a trumpet sounded; he looked back to Tim and smiled weakly. "Come, 'tis time." He limped out of the tent. Tim followed after a few seconds of attempting to calm himself. This wasn't war and he wasn't going to be in any life-threatening situations, he repeated silently to himself. He numbly took the reins of his horse that Jimmy helpfully handed him.

He followed Jimmy and the line of his fellow kinsmen toward the field and the stands filled with the nobility of the two largest cities, and his commander…and his lord…and everyone. Tim took several deep breaths; thankful he hadn't put his helmet on yet. He turned to Jimmy, who limped next to him. He watched him with concern.

"I should not have asked this of thee. Thou are not healed fully yet." Tim said guiltily. Jimmy perked up and gave him a bright smile.

"Think nothing of it. I would have not been able to witness the tournament if thee had not."

Tim hesitantly returned the smile. "I have heard that the lord is going to knight thou once thy wounds heal."

Jimmy's smile faded into an anxious frown. "Um…aye, 'tis true."

"That is wonderful!" Tim beamed until he saw how Jimmy's face fell. "Is it not?"

"'Tis gracious, but I…I am not sure this life is the one for me." Jimmy said after a pause. Tim didn't know how to reply. "Receiving the knighthood has been my dream since childhood, but…after seeing combat…after fighting for my life…" Jimmy trailed off. The knight Jimmy had served as a squire for was given the duty of accompanying a delivery of goods bought by the lord to the town. Marauders had attacked the carts. Though his knight had been wounded, Jimmy fought them and managed to escape and save the knight's life. After a pause Jimmy gave him a wry smile, "Becoming a knight is not for me, I guess."

"What will thou do then?" Tim questioned hesitantly.

A thoughtful look crossed Jimmy's face, along with a small smile. "I have heard about a doctor, north of here, in one of the smaller towns. They say he is…brilliant." He said with slight awe. Tim grinned at the reverence and enthusiasm in his friend's voice. "I have always held a fascination of medicine, mayhap that would be the road I am destined to travel." He smiled sheepishly at Tim, who patted his shoulder.

They reached the stands before Tim was able to reply back. He took a deep breath and clumsily mounted his horse, armor clinking gently. His helmet! Tim's eyes widened and he quickly whipped around, almost unseating himself from the horse. He couldn't compete without his helmet; he'd get his head taken off! What a rookie mista-

Jimmy handed him his helmet, a wide grin on his face. Tim scowled at him and took it with a muttered thanks, and with shaking hands, placed it on his head.

"May God watch over thee." Jimmy said with a small smile.

"Grammercy, and thou as well." Tim returned, a bit muffled under the helmet, and took a breath. His horse began to trot forward, Jimmy following along behind. They meshed into the pouring of knights into the field, the shouting, babbling and cheers from the crowd rose in volume and anticipation. Jimmy gave Tim a nod and a tense smile as they parted, Jimmy to go with the squires, Tim with the knights.

They lined up on one side of the area, facing the line of the other lord's men, horses shifting nervously as the dull roar from the stands faded slightly. Trumpets and horns began to call victoriously into the hazy afternoon air, signaling the beginning of the real tournament. Beads of sweat began to collect and slide down his face and into his eyes in a very irritating way, inside the confined space of his helmet. He told himself to stop being a child.

There was a hissing silvery sound as blades on both sides were silkily drawn from sheaths and raised, shining brightly, into the air toward the opposing knights. The cry of horns rose as each knight began to call out their lord's motto. Tim joined them half heartedly, the feeling of dread and nervousness dampening his enthusiasm.

He spied his commander, Gibbs, standing at attention at the very front of the ranks in the middle, helmet held casually under his arm. Next to him stood the opposing commander, a man Tim heard was called Fornell. He had placed his helmet on the ground next to his feet, left hand loosely holding the reins of his steed. Their horses stood relaxed next to them. Gibbs and Fornell eyed each other with seeming suspicion and a competitive edge, though there was a glint in both their eyes that left Tim with a feeling that he had missed something entirely. They almost seemed to respect each other. Gibbs then, with his normal uncanny sense of self-awareness, turned and met Tim's eyes. He fixed him with a stare that clearly said, 'Stop messing around. Do your job or go home.'. Tim swallowed, unnerved, and looked away.

He continued scanning the crowd through the thin slice in his helmet, he took a deep breath and tried to relax, taking some comfort that they couldn't see his face. He continued to gaze around…and then he saw her.

He did a double take.

She was…she was…he didn't know how to describe her. He just couldn't find any words that fit. Tim watched the girl, eyes widening, and with a clumsy hand he pushed up his visor on his helmet. All the knights began their own battle cries, often family mottos passed down by generations, but Tim didn't join them.

Everything had gone fuzzy, noises slowed and dulled into distant thunder as he watched this girl laugh and give a small smile as the woman next to her whispered something into her ear. She smoothed her elegant dress and smiled slyly at the festivities, brushing a piece of, rather unruly, dark hair behind her ear. Her eyes glinted intelligently. She looked about his age, perhaps even a year younger, eighteen or nineteen. Tim blinked, stunned.

He glanced at the neighboring knight and recognized the family crest on the shield he carried. Tim reached cautiously over and whacked the man's arm. The contact of metal on metal made a clang that was lost in the noise.

"Tony!" Tim shouted.

Tony stopped in the middle of his cry. He turned and pushed his visor up. "What?"

"Does thou knowest who that comely maiden is?" Tim asked in a far away voice.

With a gently shaking finger, he pointed her out to Tony, who twisted around on his horse to get a clear view through the raised swords. The battle cries faded away and the swords were lowered, an announcer began to entertain the crowds, who cheered even more enthusiastically than ever.

"Her? Right there?" Tony asked, pointing to the girl. Tim nodded, and realizing how eager he seemed, blushed. His armor seemed too constricting, too hot. The events hadn't even begun yet! Tony glanced at him and half rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and looked closer at her, his smile faded.

"Yonder fair maiden is the daughter of King David. Princess Ziva."

Those words stuck an ungodly sized pin into Tim's bubble. "Marry." He breathed out. She was so many classes above him... "And they came to watch the tournament?"

"A tournament between two of the most competitive lords in all of the providence? Ones that have been at odds with each other for years? Who would not?" He gave Tim a shrug that was half sympathy, half what-can-you-do and turned forward again, sliding his visor back into place. Tim mirrored him, his thoughts still on the girl. On the princess.

If anything, Tim was realistic. Class shouldn't affect such matters, like love, but he wasn't naive, he knew it did in a very large way. A knight marrying a princess? Never. She was far too good for him. She'd be wed off by an agreement between her father and another king, to some prince from an exotic, far away land, where camels traverse large expanses of desert, and the two kingdoms would become allies. Politics. He glanced back at her, and then forward again.

The announcer's voice speared into his thoughts, he was being offered his first chance to joust. Tim took a breath that didn't feel nearly deep enough, and answered with a loud, "Aye!" and a thrust sword into the air, the audience cheered. The youngest and newest knights were always offered the first chance to joust at the beginning of the tournament. Panic began to flower in the pit of his stomach. He took another breath; his lungs couldn't seem to inflate properly. He urged his horse stiffly forward as the knight on the other side confirmed that he too was going to joust. The crowd roared.

Behind him Tony called out, loud enough he alone would hear it, "Thou willst do great, good sir." Tim cringed a little at the terrible nickname Tony liked to annoy him with, but a small half smile slipped out, hidden underneath his helmet. "Not as well as I, mind thee, but still great." Tony added, a wide grin probably on his face, but Tim didn't turn to look. Jimmy limped out to meet him. He gave Tim an encouraging smile and handed him his lance, receiving Tim's sword in return, he then retreated to a safe distance away. Tim swallowed. He was all alone now.

He nudged his horse hesitantly with his foot, and rode up to the middle of the field, opposite the other knight, only the small jousting fence separating them. They lightly touched shields, and then rode to opposite ends of the stadium. Tim took a shallow breath. This was it. He gripped his horse tighter with his knees and took a firmer hold on his lance and shield, trying to look much more in control and confident than he felt.

He was defending not just his own pride here, but his lord's and his commander's as well. And with all this on his mind, something rose to the top.

Ziva. Princess Ziva.

He jumped slightly as the trumpets suddenly screamed into the sky, barely holding their own against the howls of the crowd. He dug his heels into his horse's flanks and it thundered forward. The hoof beats of his own horse and the incoming horse of the other knight's echoed in his ears; he resisted the urge to shut his eyes, and squeezed his shield until his fingers ached, pulling it closer to his chest. He was almost unseated as the knight's lance collided into his shield, splintering, his arm numbed as the force of the blow echoed through his bones. They continued past each other and slowed as they reached the opposite ends of the area. The crowd roared its approval at the match continuing and the rookies putting up a good show.

Tim flexed his shield arm, wincing. Jimmy hurried up.

"Art thou alright?" He asked anxiously.

"I…believe so."

Jimmy gave him a look of pity. "Good luck then." He returned weakly and retreated again. Neither knight was unseated or injured yet, the match continued on. Tim felt a little sick, adrenaline still burning through his veins. He pushed up his visor and took several deep breaths. He saw the other knight being given a new lance and let his visor thunk back down again. He steadied himself for another round, wishing for more than a minute or two to collect himself.

The trumpets sounded. The crowd answered. The sound of thunder began again. Tim couldn't help the feelings of excitement and fear that bounded and leapt through his bloodstream, tension building as the two riders sped toward each other.

Without meaning to, he glanced up and saw her. She looked back at him; somehow, through the hundreds of spectators a good distance away. She met his eyes. She smiled at him. He couldn't look away, mouth slightly agape. She was smi-

The next thing he knew, the competitor's lance had become incredibly intimate with his breastplate and he was being forcibly removed from his horse, which sprinted on without him. The world went quiet, muffled. There was a sickening crunch mixed in to the confusion that was definitely not from the lance cracking on his armor. He saw the smile drop from her lips, before she disappeared from his sight.

He bounced and rolled slightly as hit the ground, metal crunching as it came in contact with the hard soil, and then skidded to a stop.

For a brief moment, Tim was actually kind of enjoying the cloudless, azure sky, in a haze of shock and surprise, before the wall of cheers, boos and gasps enveloped him. The horns started again. Pain crept stealth-like up and pounced, landing heavily on his chest and side. Tim gave a strangled gasp, which made his side and chest throb, and gritted his teeth.

Oh, broken ribs. Wonderful.

He could hear the shouts of Tony and Jimmy, footsteps and the gently clinking of armor came closer. Black spots began to cloud his vision. A thought floated to the surface of his mind, buffered and buried by the waves at first but coming now stronger than ever. Tim grinned widely, and lost consciousness.

She had smiled at him.


	3. Chapter 2

Now the main adventure begins! All my chapters seem to be hugely long, but I'm glad someone's enjoying them.

Reviews are love, though they're never required. I just hope you readers enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

_One and a half years later..._

A smile flitted across Tim's face as he carefully read the letter, tilting it to try and capture the elusive rays of sunlight that struggled to enter his quarters through the small window. Jimmy's scrawly handwriting wasn't making his reading any easier, though he could make out that Jimmy was incredibly happy. It was his dream come true, to be apprenticed to the most brilliant doctor in the kingdom (Or the most off-his-rocker, it was often hard to tell with doctors). He had left two months after the tournament, only delaying long enough to finish healing. Tim had been worried for him, especially with the stories of a nameless fear that wandered somewhere by that area, ravaging flocks of sheep, but even those had died down late in their youth. Probably only fairy tales told by parents to mischievous children.

Tim placed the letter on his desktop, took out a quill, a bottle of ink, and a piece of paper and set them besides the letter. He dipped the quill in the ink just as Tony recklessly threw open the door to his room. It smacked into the wall with an admirable crash. Tim jerked around in surprise, ink spattering across the desktop. The ink well clinked gently to the floor and rolled away.

Tim leapt up before it dripped onto his trousers and tunic. "Fie!" He yelped, turning angrily on Tony, who had the decency to look a least marginally apologetic.

"Language, Timothy." Tony said sweetly, clearly unable to resist. Tim glanced back at the sopping black mess the things on his desk now were. Ink dripped off the desk, making a dark pool on the chair and floor. He threw up his hands into the air and let out a breath.

"Why, Tony? Every time!"

Tony gave him an apologetic look that still couldn't quash the excitement that bubbled over. "I will help thee clean it up later. Though for the time being, thou may find thineself a little…distracted," Tony wiggled his eyebrows.

Tim let his arms drop, anger and irritation pausing as curiosity edged its way to the front of the line. "What is it?" He asked a little haughtily.

Tony's eyes gleamed in anticipation. "I have heard from a reliable bard that arrived this morning, that the king has announced his daughter is ready to wed."

Tim's heart sank and rose at the same time. Dread and hope wedged themselves in the pit of his stomach and began to fight like feral cats. "Wed." He squeaked out.

"Aye. Though it is strange how long he has waited. Apparently he let her decide when she shall wed. I have heard he will let her decide whom she shall marry as well! Very weird." Tony exclaimed. Tim leaned back, remembered the ink on his chair, and instead sat heavily onto the side of his bed. Tony continued to talk, in typical Tony fashion, but Tim tuned him out.

She was ready to marry. It wasn't like he had obsessed over this untouchable girl for a year and a half. This girl he would never have any chance with, that outclassed him. His family had been barely rich enough to recognized as upper class so he could become a knight, and they were slowly falling below that line. This gorgeous girl who was independent and learned to fight alongside the boys. This girl who was the talk of the kingdom for being so…different. Women weren't supposed to be like that, especially ones of such high standings. They were supposed to be delicate, be seen and not heard. Everything she wasn't. Ziva. No, he hadn't thought of her at all. Tim wondered if he should stop lying to himself anytime soon.

A palm of a hand smacked into the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"I said, 'Are we going, or not?'" Tony asked, again apparently.

"Tony, I do not know…" Tim trailed off.

The hand came in contact with his skull again, though a smidge softer.

"Stop that!"

"I will stop when thee gain a back bone." Tony said sensibly, withdrawing his hand again.

"What can I do, Tony? Enlighten me!" Tim said in frustration. "I would never be able garner her attention, much less be able to marry her. She is a princess!" He saw Tony's hand rise again and dodged the smack. "And stop!"

"Thou hast watched her from afar for a year and half, and driven all of us insane with thy fledgling crush that refuses to be smothered. If thou does not at least try to woo this princess, thou will mope around and torture me with thine incessant whining." Tony said, an eyebrow arched up. Tim opened his mouth then shut it again. "What has thou got to lose?"

"I-" Tim stopped. "Nothing."

"Aye. Now, up." Tony took Tim's arm and pulled him to his feet. He then turned and started out the door. "We must ask Commander Gibbs for a few days leave."

"We?"

Tony turned back and leaned against the doorway, he beamed at Tim in his infuriatingly charming way. "Of course. If left to thine own devices, thou wouldst turn around and scurry back here like a little, frightened mouse halfway to Derech Eretz."

Tim hadn't moved from where he stood in front of his bed. He angled his head almost imperceptibly to the side, a small smile slipping onto his face. "Thou art doing all of this for me. Thou must really like me."

"Nay! Perish the thought. 'Tis merely self-preservation, against the whiny child thou wouldst become if I did not intervene." Tony snorted, eyes glinting. "Imagine, me enjoying the company of a little slip of a kid like thou." Smug, teasing smile still planted firmly on his lips, he slipped out of the room. Tim half rolled his eyes, and smiled. He then began to quickly gather up his formal clothing, armor and his sword, wrapped with care in cloth, tucked underneath his bed. Almost as an afterthought but not quite so, he scrambled for a clean sheet of parchment and a quill. Taking advantage of the still wet ink pooling on his chair, Tim scrawled out a letter to Jimmy. He finished it off, signing his name, smeared slightly in his haste.

He tucked everything into a satchel and heaved it onto his shoulder. He'd need to be used to the weight, neither Tony nor he had a squire to accompany them. Folding the letter carefully, he headed after Tony. Finding someone riding to Cursum Perficio to deliver only a letter wouldn't be easy. It was a small town, insignificant and didn't do much major trade with their city, Magnum Bonum. But it was a coastal town; someone must need to go there. Plus, he still had a few favors to cash in…

Tim just hoped it'd get there soon. It was a three days ride without stopping. Jimmy would be pleased. He had been pushing about as hard as Tony had, in his own more subtle way, for Tim to either go after her or give up.

After finding a merchant in the marketplace who was heading there in the morning, and leaving him with instructions on whom to deliver the letter to, Tim ran to meet up with Tony in the army's stables.

"I sent Jimmy a letter telling him."

"He will enjoy that." Tony smiled and went back to his horse.

"Did the commander allow us leave?"

Tony turned. "Of course he did." He looked a touch smug. "I requested it. You know he adores me." Tim snorted but said nothing, just began packing his own horse. The horse pranced gently in excitement at the promise of a journey. Tim patted his back and led him out of the stable, Tony following close behind. Tim's hands shook a little as he mounted his horse. Could he do this? What if she was nothing like he imagined or heard she was? Would that be better or worse? What if she took one look at him and sent him off? Could he stand that flat out rejection?

"Come! Stop dallying, McGee!"

Tim snapped to attention at the calling of his last name, almost expecting to see an impatient Commander Gibbs. Tony grinned back. "I should call thou that more often."

He rolled his eyes, and they took off. They began trotting down the main street, filing around street vendors selling cheap goods, and children gleefully dirtying themselves. They headed straight through one of the side gates, waved to the knights manning the gate, and took off at a gallop toward their destination.

The wind called through the trees as they entered the forest that bordered Magnum Bonum, and Tim realized that despite his nervousness and apprehension, he was enjoying himself. He was traveling with his closest friend, at the start of an adventure, possibly. It was a four day ride to Derech Eretz, to Ziva; he could work out what to say during that time. He shouldn't worry too much. He settled into the smooth rhythm of his horse's stride, the smallest of smiles on his face.

Though the questions still rattled around in his head, searching for the answers so dearly desired, and finding only more questions.

o-o

They stood a mile and half away from the capital city of Derech Eretz. The setting sun tinged the stonewalls surrounding the city an unreal array of pinks and yellows. It looked magnificent, grand and incredibly intimidating. As one neared the walls, more and more scars from ancient and not so ancient battles made themselves clear, though the city had never fallen.

Tim's gaze swept up the hill within the city to the castle that perched at the very top, drawing the eyes. It had clearly been built for strength and hardiness rather than beauty. He swallowed dryly and leaned back against a tree.

They had stopped at the outer edge of the forest that bordered the city. Tony had made the executive decision (Since he apparently was in possession of, "A vast amount more experience" that Tim had yet to acquire) to set up camp there since night was practically upon them. It'd be easier than attempting to find somewhere to stay the night; they would have to wait until morning anyway to see the princess. Why not avoid the overcrowding and sleep under the stars? Tim really couldn't disagree.

He slid down the trunk until he slumped to a sitting position on the ground. What the heck was he going to do? It wasn't like he had slacked the whole ride here, he had wracked his brain, tried to phase out worries and fears, put together a hundred hypothetical situations (That all seemed to ended up badly for him) and was still unable to draw anything good. After a moment he stood slowly, brushing the dirt and dust of traveling off his clothing. He retreated back to their camping spot.

Tony was suspiciously absent. Their horses stood off to one side of the tiny clearing, reins tied to a tree, their burdens set onto the ground. Tim glanced at the bedrolls laid on the ground on either side of the startings of a fire pit. He jumped as several twigs broke a few feet away and Tony emerged from the rapidly spreading darkness, arms full of branches, and his bow resting on a shoulder, arm threaded through.

"Done moping, good sir?" He greeted, and dropped the wood into the prepared fire pit.

"I was…thinking." Tim replied in a defensive tone, and then looked down at the wood. "I hope this forest is not under the protection of the royal family."

"As do I." Tony returned, smiling, he reached behind him and pulled out a few rabbits upon a string.

"Tony!"

"What? I am fairly sure that this forest is not under the king's ownership." Tony sat down, pulled a dagger from his belt, and began the task of cleaning and preparing the rabbits. He shrugged his bow off to the side. Tim gave him a look of exasperation that clearly missed its mark, crouched down next to the wood and retrieved a piece of flint and steel from his pouch. He collided them together, sparks bounding onto the wood. He blew gently at the sparks and repeated it again. A small fire began to burn, consuming the wood and growing stronger. Tim smiled. At least he could succeed at one thing.

"Does thou knowest what thou willst say?"

Tim almost didn't hear Tony's soft words over the crackling of the young fire and the crickets chirping in the background. Night had fallen upon them. He almost decided to ignore the question completely, pretend it was never asked and let it die a natural death. He knew Tony wouldn't pressure him further on a matter this important to him, but…but he needed someone to talk to.

"Nay." He swallowed and sat down on the grass, folding his arms to his chest, as if to ward off a chill. Tony glanced at him and went back to the rabbits, though Tim could tell he was listening.

"What will thou do then?"

"I…I do not know." His voice cracked slightly and he winced.

"Just wing it. Use thy charm and wits to capture said comely maiden's heart." Tony paused and looked up. "Nay, this is thou we are speaking of." His eyes glinted. "Plan like thine life depends upon it." Tony teased. Tim was caught between wanting to give him a dirty look and the urge to laugh rather hysterically. He struck down both options, instead opting to not reply. He sagged, weary and frustrated and nervous, and just all around unsure.

Tony caught this and sighed. One hand began to roast the rabbit meat over the fire, while the other patted Tim's shoulder. Tim winced at the dirty hand coming in contact with his tunic. "Thou willst be fine. If this princess does not choose thee, then she does not deserve thine attentions." He smiled reassuringly and went back to the rabbit.

Tim gave a rather pathetic excuse for a smile back, and hoped he was right. He also sort of hoped this night would never end, that the next day wouldn't come. But he knew it would.

He took a deep breath and firmed his resolve.

* * *

><p>Town name translations (All of which are Latin):<p>

Magnum Bonum - A great good  
>Cursum Perficio - My journey is over, or I finish my journey<br>Derech Eretz - Way of the Land


	4. Chapter 3

A short transition chapter. Sorry for the delay! And thank you so much, reviewers! Each one makes my day.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Tim exited the castle, Tony a step behind, and headed toward the arch in the low standing walls that led nobles, people of high status, and young knights with desperate crushes on princesses from the main city to the castle grounds or vice versa. The early morning sunlight had just begun to caress Derech Eretz but even the youth of the day didn't deter the city, which had already begun to buzz, shop owners setting up and traveling merchants preparing their stands and carts.

Tim stopped for a moment in the cool shadow of the castle, looked back at the hulking structure, and sighed, before running to catch up.

Tim fell into step besides Tony, who glared back at the palace guards as if it was their fault that he and Tim had to wait until the late afternoon for their appointment. Tim saw this and tried to amend it by smiling apologetically. It didn't look like it helped. He sighed and turned forward.

Tim didn't share the contempt most knights (And most of the infantry and members of the army) seemed to have with the royal guard. Though he could see why it was held. They acted like they were of the status of those they protected, and all others were below them. But really, they were all trying to protect the same thing, weren't they? King and country, and all that? No need to be resentful. Tony apparently didn't see it quite this way as he turned to shoot them another look to display his displeasure and realized they were already out of sight. They weaved around several corners and through a back alley. Wandering rather aimlessly. He glanced to Tim, who gave a strained smile.

"Well, I guess have a bit of time to think now." Tim's smile didn't lose the weary and rather worried quality it possessed. Inwardly, he sort of wished that he could have just gotten this over with quickly before he lost the nerve. Waiting was so much worse; one had time to imagine exactly what could go wrong. One had time to run away as fast as one could.

An indescribable look flashed over Tony's face and vanished before Tim was able to get a good look at it. They stopped at the edge of the central marketplace, a large round, cobblestoned area surrounded on all sides by shops and crowded by vendors, shoppers and sellers. The shouts of new pricing, special deals and haggling were growing as the day edged onward. Practically all roads in the city led to the marketplace. Tony turned to Tim.

"Do not dwell, too much upon this." He began reassuringly. "It is not good for thy weak nerves, fair maiden." Tim half-heartedly scowled at him. "Here," Tony dug into pocket and gestured for Tim to hold out his hand, who complied after a moment. Tony dropped several copper and one or two silver coins into Tim's hand. Tim scoffed at this.

"Tony-"

"Take this. And try not to spend all of it in one place, I shan't give thee any more." Tony winked.

"Tony, come off-"

"Oh, Timothy, such youth." He tutted. "Now, behave. Stay out of trouble." Tony's eyes twinkled merrily. "We are in the capital of the kingdom! Get a drink, watch a street performer, buy something thou dost not need. Try to enjoy thyself." He patted Tim on the shoulder and then teasingly ruffled his hair. Tim grimaced at the action and pushed his hand away. "But remember," Tony called as he walked away from Tim. "Spend thy money wisely! Buy a pinwheel!"

"I am not a child, Tony! _Thy child_, even less so!" Tim yelled at Tony, but he had already slipped into the crowd. He glanced down at the money, shrugged, and pocketed it for now. Perhaps he would get that pinwheel. A grin slipped out before he could stop it.

Tim looked back up at the place Tony had been before he slipped away, and shook his head. The man was most likely off to the closest pub to charm his way into a free drink and beguile some pretty women with stories of war (Some real, most fake) and his own brand of humor. Tony had a gift in this regard. But no matter how much Tony teased him, treated him like a little kid, or like an inexperienced novice (Which he sort of was), he knew how to take his mind off of what troubled him. Tim smiled again and gazed around.

He wandered off into the bustle, determined to kill a few hours and not worry himself into a state.

Was that a pinwheel he spotted?


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The two men stuck out as they stood awkwardly in the middle of the throne room of the castle. They stood closer than they would have normally, though they would both have flat out denied this later. An oppressive, antagonistic presence hung in the air of the room with the high ceiling, dark mahogany and polished floors that made them feel slightly off kilter and nervous.

Perhaps it was the fact that no one was there except the two royal guards standing stock still on either side of the entranceway, shooting them (Or, more specifically, Tony, for making rather insulting jokes about their profession) looks that clearly said they weren't wanted there. Or anywhere near there for that matter. Maybe a different continent entirely.

Tony kept fingering the vacuous sword sheath hanging from his belt. The palace guards had confiscated their weapons from them before entering the castle. Tim had expected that, but still felt incredibly vulnerable surrendering the sword his father had given him practically a lifetime ago. What he didn't expect was the sheer amount of weapons Tony had had on him. There was a very nice, small pile of shiny, pointy objects sitting in the entryway, with Tony's name written all over it. Tim self-consciously touched his own empty sheath, dread dripping steadily into his chest.

Tim swallowed. "I cannot do this." He whispered to Tony, heart beating in his throat. He didn't even know why he was whispering; it just seemed like the kind of place where you would get skewered for speaking loudly. Tony's hand caught his arm in a tight grip, as if attempting to squash any plans of leaving by simple force.

"Calm down." Tony hissed at him, voice low as well. He gave the two guards a look, they were listening with interest. Without loosening his grip, he guided Tim a few steps away from them. "Thou can do this. I do not say that often, but 'tis true."

"The princess has already rejected every suitor that has come!" Men much better looking and of a much higher class than he, if the storekeepers (And every citizen he came in contact with earlier) were to believe. Tim didn't like his chances. Earlier insecurities and fears he locked away before were slipping out again.

"They were roguish vassals!" Tony's raised voice echoed in the hall, startling the guards. Tim's eyes widened.

"Tony-" Tim started in surprise.

"Do not think of them," Tony cut him off, lowering his voice again. "Thou art a good person, be thineself. Thou can do nothing but that, and if she does not want thee, then that is her loss." Tony smacked the back of Tim's head with one other hand, released his arm, and faced toward the three empty thrones again, silent. Tim stood stunned for a moment and then slowly pivoted to join Tony. Tony didn't look over.

"Thank you." Tim murmured. He smiled as he heard a sigh and then a low chuckle.

"Idiot."

"Aye."

They continued after that to wait in silence.

After what seemed like an hour, three people finally emerged from a side door. Tim and Tony knelt like they had always been taught, heads bowed respectfully.

"Stand." A voice said. It wasn't an incredibly distinct voice, not very deep, not very high, and a little raspy actually. But it had power written into every syllable that was uttered. They obeyed.

Tim's eyes flicked over to the princess and away, and then back again. A small smile slipped onto her face. Tim wished he had decided to wear his helmet, just to hide his pinking ears, though Tony had been right. His formal breeches, tunic, breastplate and shield were enough. He heard a murmur of approval from beside him and then felt a hot breath on his ear.

"By my faith," Tony exclaimed quietly to Tim. "If I had known thy princess looked like this upon closer inspection, I would have gone after her myself." Tim started at his statement and turned quickly toward him, though the anger drained away as he caught the teasing grin on his face. "May thou succeed at thy conquests." Tony whispered into his ear, gently clapped his shoulder, and moved backward out of the spotlight.

Tim was alone.

"You requested an appointment for a reason I presume, fair knight." The King stated in a dry, but not cruel tone after a moment. Tim realized he had been standing frozen, staring at them in a very surprised and paralyzed manner, for several minutes. "What lord doth thee serve?" Tim tightened his hands into fists, one gripped his shield with unneeded force, he held his free one behind his back and stood up straight.

"I serve Lord Vance, your majesty." Tim replied, inwardly gleeful that he sounded stronger than he felt.

The king tilted his head slightly to the side. "Lord Vance? Did he send you with a message, young knight?"

Tim resisted the urge to prickle at the 'young' part. "No, your majesty, I…I have come by my own initiative." He took a breath. "I am Sir Timothy McGee, of the McGees of Magnum Bonum, and I wish to court and marry your daughter." Tim felt the silence become more pronounced as his words abandoned the safety of his mouth. A small, polite smile positioned itself swiftly onto the King's face, intermingling with the stiff surprise that was quickly tidied away.

_Princesses marry lords and princes, not knights. Politics. _Tim told the cynical part of his mind to go stuff itself. He was too afraid it was right.

The King turned to his right, and looked past the empty throne beside his, and to the final chair placed a step or two down from.

"Fortunately for you, Sir Timothy, I am not the one who shall decide that. Ziva?"

At the calling of her name, Princess Ziva met her father's eyes and then turned back to Tim. She grinned. He looked away, flustered. He turned back at the soft creaking of a chair. The Princess stood up from her throne, nodded to both her parents, and started down the steps, dress gathered hastily in a hand.

Tim could practically feel Tony leering from the back.

She reached the bottom and started walking off toward the right, to a side passageway. She stopped and then turned to face Tim.

"Come, good knight. Let us have a talk." Ziva called to Tim, and, with a wily grin, strode off through the side door. Tim stood dumbstruck for a moment before he received a shove forward courtesy of Tony, who stepped up from the background to help.

"Go on!" Tony said with determinedly straight face, shooing him away and taking his shield. Tim glanced at King David, who watched him with a measure of interest. The King nodded slightly. Tim hesitated and then awkwardly ran to catch with the Princess, utterly bewildered and lightly thrilled.

Tony fondly watched him run to catch up and disappear through the side door after the object of his affections. He leaned over to the royal guard that stood besides him and elbowed the man.

"They grow up so fast, eh?" Tony grinned madly at the guard, who gave him a confused and irritated look when it became clear he was not leaving anytime soon.

The guard sighed as it became clear that his day had just gotten much longer.

o-o

Tim jogged through the side door and slowed to a stop. He glanced around, unsure before catching up with princess, who had continued straight down the hallway. He stopped a few steps behind, hesitantly watching her.

Tim never though he would have gotten this far. With all his talk (A teaspoon of pride and confidence, and a heavy dollop of self-deprecation) he never would have even dreamed that he would even have the chance to talk to her. And now that he did…he had no idea what to do. All he hoped was that she couldn't hear his heartbeat. The annoying organ was currently, with an admirable effort, attempting to smash its way out of his ribcage through brute force. He swallowed again.

The princess glanced back at him, shadowing a few steps behind her, looking nervous and a bit sick, and smiled slightly. She slowed and matched his pace. Tim saw this, surprise, anxiousness, a bit of fear, and delight mixed on his face.

"Do not worry, I will not bite."

Tim couldn't hold back a grin at her offhanded remark. "Grammercy, I was hoping to escape unscathed tonight."

"Well, I cannot guarantee that, but I will try to resist." She said innocently, a mischievous look in her eyes. He chuckled slightly.

"That is...very reassuring. I thank you again."

"'Tis my pleasure." The princess flashed a grin at him. His initial fears, worries and anxiousness were beginning to fade away.

He returned the grin, but it faded away as, out of the corner of his eye, Tim caught a movement behind them as they emerged into a smaller, more cheerful room. He turned to find three guards following several feet behind them.

"Do not worry about them. They are just there for my protection." The princess looked like she was having a hard time keeping from snorting as she added, "As if I cannot protect myself."

Tim grinned at this.

Ziva caught his smile. "What? Does thou believe I cannot?"

"No, never, your highness." Tim teased lightly and then cut himself off. What was he doing? She wasn't one of his friends to rib about. He felt so comfortable with her though, as if she was one of his mates. She met his eyes; he blushed and looked bashfully away for a moment. Perhaps not one of his mates exactly…

"I am fairly sure I can handle a sword better than thee." Ziva returned, releasing folds of her dress from her hand. She had gathered it up to move quickly through the hall. The fire in the corner of the room cast a warm flickering light on her face, reflecting in her eyes.

"That is not saying much, though. I bet you could as well." Tim said with a half smile, running a hand through his hair.

"Thou art lying to me, good knight." A small smile lay upon her lips, along with an arched eyebrow.

"What? Never." Tim responded, just as playfully, to his surprise (And slight horror). Tim couldn't help but revel in this strange new person, who was humorous and quick-witted...and could very clearly eat him alive if she wanted to. She acted in an unorthodox way to the highest degree, unlike any other girl he had ever met. The feelings of admiration, affection and protectiveness toward the princess nestled warm and comforting in his chest. "Never, your highness."

"Ziva."

"What?" He asked, this time in confused jet lag caused by the rapid change in topic.

"Please, call me Ziva, I prefer to do without the 'Your highness' business." She gave a look of dislike at the words 'Your highness'.

"I…um-" Tim was thrown by the sudden, almost taboo familiarity between a princess and a knight. She grinned slyly.

"And what do I call thee? Timothy? Tim? Good, courageous sir knight?"

He blushed slightly at the last one. "Anything is fine, your h-…Ziva."

"As thou wishes, Tim. Now, let us see who is the better swordsman." Ziva told him, a gleam in her eyes. She slipped her hand into Tim's own, and guided him off before he had time to properly register the action and freeze in surprise at what she had just done.

A smile drifted onto his face.

o-o

To be absolutely truthful, she was not very much like what he had always imagined.

She was better.

Ziva was intelligent, outspoken when she wanted to be, not afraid to stand up to anyone (Actually, she was out rightly confrontational when prodded too much), and knew more about weapons and how to handle them than Tim ever could. He still was not sure if that last one was a good thing or not. It didn't really bother him though. Well, at least not too much. (He would deny it, but he actually liked it quite a bit).

They emerged finally back into the throne room, laughing softly at Tim's imitation of one of the guards that had been following close behind for the hours they'd been together. Tim quieted immediately as King David's gaze fell on him. He turned to Ziva and softly whispered a thanks in her ear. He caught sight of Tony, who had been lying comfortably on the stone steps, sit up and motion to him. Tony made a gesture that clearly indicated doing something Tim would wait until marriage to do. Tim smiled slightly and his cheeks colored. He shook his head, and Tony scoffed. He then mimed something more appropriate.

Tim took it into consideration. Ah, why not?

He turned back to Ziva, bowed, and tenderly kissed her hand. In front of her father. Tim wondered vaguely where all his good sense had fled to. She rolled her eyes at him, but a half smile slipped onto her lips.

Tim returned to the middle of the room facing the royal family. Ziva walked over to beside her father and whispered in his ear, a stony look set on his face, and then returned to her throne.

"My daughter has chosen you, Sir Timothy, to marry." The king stated. Tim's heart leapt. He grinned at Ziva, who smiled back. "However, you will have to prove yourself." Ziva broke her gaze with him and whirled around to look at her father, anger and shock in her eyes, but her face clear of emotion. She leapt up.

"Father, prithee, a word, if you would be so inclined." She asked in an even, controlled voice. The king nodded, and she came over and stood next to his throne, bent over, and they began to argue fiercely in hushed tones. Tim had frozen where he stood, barely even breathing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen Tony sit up from his supine position at the King's unexpected words, and stand. Tim turned back. Tony had a look of concern, mixed with the start of anger on his face. When he noticed Tim looking at him, he smiled and gave him a confident thumb's up, though the hesitation stubbornly remained.

Tim returned facing forward and caught the end of Ziva and her father's quiet argument. She clenched her hands into fists and repeated something. Her father made a cutting motion with his hand and a final statement, she reeled backward a bit. Eyes stony, face blank, and cheeks lightly flushed, Ziva returned to her seat. Tim exchanged a look with Tony, who attempted to exchange a look with the guard he had been standing near, who tried valiantly to ignore him.

"You will have to prove yourself." The King repeated firmly, glancing at his daughter, who remained staring resolutely forward.

Politics. Why marry one's daughter to a lowly, unseasoned knight whose family was barely able to retain their upper class standing, when one could try to convince her to marry within the class lines. Forge a union. Gain land, friends, wealth. Tim forced himself to surface and listen to King David.

"I have received word of an attack," King David started. "Near the city of Cursum Perficio, six days ago." Tim knew where that was, west of a tiny town named Quaque Nocte that he had visited once when he was younger. Somewhere deep within him, his stomach flipped. He wondered vaguely if Jimmy knew of the event. Tim hoped he was staying out of trouble. "We have managed to keep the news from spreading too far yet, but 'tis only a matter of time before the entire empire knows of this event. Mass panic is not something we need at this moment. Several flocks of sheep, and four shepherds were violently massacred in their fields." Concern crept onto Ziva's face. She clearly hadn't heard of the attack. The King continued after a pause. "Exactly what caused this assault is…unknown." The King hesitated on the last word.

Suddenly, it struck Tim. Patterns of thought connected weaving and painting a picture, constructing a conclusion. Attacks like this one, they were exactly like the stories of ones that had occurred many years prior. People had said…people had said that the thing responsible had been a d-

"I have sent men to take care of this problem, but they have not returned. You, Sir Timothy, will be tasked to solve this problem. Find the one responsible, and use any methods you wish to resolve the matter." The King finished, and sat back into his throne, steepling his fingers.

His heart sank, but Tim was almost surprised to find he…he didn't feel a thing. He felt oddly empty. It hadn't hit him yet, he reasoned. Behind him he heard Tony begin to march forward, fury in every footfall. Tim made a decision (They were surprisingly easy to make when one isn't flooded with fear of the task ahead, though Tim knew that would come sooner than later). He knelt on one knee and bowed his head. He heard Tony's footsteps falter and then stop completely.

"I shall accept your task, Sire. I will find and rid the kingdom of this menace. And then," He looked up, face open and honest. "I will come back, and I will wed your daughter." He spared a glance at Ziva, who had pressed her lips into a tight line. "Your Majesty." Tim nodded respectfully to the King. He swore he saw a flash of guilt pass across the King's face, but it was gone in an instant. "Your Highness." He grinned weakly at Ziva, hoping it made up for the formal addressing she hated. She returned a small, troubled smile.

Tim stood, swallowed, and still as empty as the sheath that hung on his waist, he walked out the double doors leading to the entryway. Tony followed, and in a rare instance, said absolutely nothing.

They silently collected their weapons, Tony taking a little longer, and then left the castle, into the night, side by side.

They walked for few moments, before Tony finally placed a fist through the soundlessness.

"Thou art not a mercenary." He stated in cold fury, voice incredibly well controlled. If Tim wasn't in his slightly shell-shocked phase, it would have chilled him. "He has no _right_to ask thee to search for undetermined danger. To just face whatever may come along. Thou art not his soldier." Tony pressed his lips together and winced at the lie that passed through his lips.

"He can, and I will." Tim said in an emotionless tone. Tony glanced at him.

"Art thou alright?"

"Nay." Was the simplest answer. There was nothing Tim could add at the moment. Tony decided to take this.

"Come," Tony reached over and laid a hand on Tim's upper arm, handing him back his shield. "I know a place we can stay for the night. Quaque Nocte is about a six and half day ride from here if we can get good weather, we'll need to restock tomorrow and then leave, if thou is ready." As they reached the central market, deserted for the day, Tony guided Tim over to a small rather shabby looking bar on the edge of the plaza, stuffed between two large stores. They entered; the pleasant soft murmur of a bar at night enveloped them comfortingly. Conversation dipped slightly as they came in but continued as normal, though several voices became raised.

"Tony!"

"Hey, Tony's here!" Someone shouted, raising a glass in toast.

Tony rubbed a hand through his hair and grinned awkwardly when he met Tim's gaze. They'd been in town one day, and Tony was already a recognized regular by the locals. Tim would have rolled his eyes and begun to razz Tony, but a bone deep weariness had descended upon him, a steady companion to the empty feeling in his chest.

"Good evening, gentle people!" Tony greeted.

"Gentle people? Who would he be talking to?" A voice answered. The group laughed.

"Obviously not thou, Ben!" Tony called back. There was a rise in good-natured taunts toward the man called Ben, who grinned and waved them off. Tony nodded at Tim and led him to the bar. They sat down upon the seats, Tim falling heavily into his. "Angelo," Tony greeted the bartender with a toothy grin.

"Hey, Dinozzo."

"Can we get two rooms for the night?" Tony placed two silver coins on the bar. Angelo took them with a smile.

"'Course, anything for thou, Dinozzo." Angelo winked, and Tim wondered half-heartedly what exactly he had missed. "Anything else I can get thee?"

"Nay, grammercy." Tony thanked, relief showing on his face.

Angelo began to sidle away before Tony called him back. "Hey, Angelo, there actually is one thing." Tony reached into his pocket, produced a handful of coins and slapped them on the bar. "My friend here really needs a drink." He glanced at Tim. "Make it something strong. Very strong." He added after a moment.

Angelo gave Tim a little lopsided grin. "Hell of a day?"

"A little bit, aye." Tim answered wearily.

* * *

><p>Town name translations:<p>

Quaque Nocte - Every night


	6. Chapter 5

So much for no long delays, my apologies, readers! Life has been...present. Here's the fifth chapter in the wacky dragon slaying adventures of Sir Timothy and Sir Anthony!

Reviews are love. And I really need to start replying to them.

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

It had long passed from early evening to late night, to late, late night before Tim finished his first glass of whatever Tony had ordered for him. It was disgusting and, as Tony had ordered Angelo to make it, very strong. Tim had nursed it throughout the night because he knew Tony was trying to make him forget, at least until morning. And for that, he was willing to try to finish the almost undrinkable amber liquid that lay lazily in the glass, slopping on the sides as he tipped it from the left to the right, and then back again.

Tony had retired to bed hours earlier, reminding Tim to try and get some rest, concern disguised in teasing. Tim had smiled a false smile, and said he would try. He could tell Tony had seen right through it, but was immensely grateful he didn't try to pry.

And so Tim was left to his emptiness, surrounded by quietly babbling bar patrons, Angelo watching him protectively nearby (Tim had spotted Tony speaking to him privately earlier), and glasses clinking in the background. He felt more alone than he ever had before.

The bar had long since cleared out, only Tim, a few older gentlemen in the back, and Angelo remained. He felt as if he could drop right there at the bar, but he couldn't sleep. Couldn't force himself to go to bed even after the day he had had, and the rough nights he had experienced on the ride there. Tim felt incredibly numb and frozen.

He had absolutely no idea what to do. That moment of clarity and power to decide that had happened at the castle, was now completely lost. About as lost as he felt. This entire situation, it was insane, overwhelming. Tim wearily placed his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes, willing the world to disappear.

The muffled sound of the inn door opening and shutting behind him reached his ears. He didn't bother to turn around, unwilling to muster interest about who had walked in this late at night. Or this early in the morning, he realized, and groaned softly. There was gentle murmuring down at the end of the bar, and then footsteps came closer and closer.

"Sir Timothy McGee?"

"Aye?" Tim answered without lifting his head from his hands.

"The Princess wishes to see thee." The voice replied a little quieter. His head rose slowly from his cupped hands.

"Pardon?"

"Princess Ziva David, she requested a small meeting with thee." The castle guard said. This guard was younger than the ones that had encountered before, about Tony's age, only five or six years older than Tim. He looked kindly at Tim, clearly anxious to complete his task.

"Now? At this hour?"

"She said that she would understand if it was inconvenient. 'Tis quite late."

"Nay, nay, I will come with thee." Tim slid off the bar seat and stood, wobbling shakily for a moment before the guard caught his arm.

"Art thou alright?"

"Aye, just a little tired." Tim steadied himself, paused, and glanced at doorway in the left corner of the room that led to the stairs. No, he'd let Tony sleep. Plus, he had the feeling this meeting was more private than anything else. He turned back and nodded to the guard, who hesitantly released his arm.

They exited the bar.

o-o

Surprise splashed into Tim's empty shell of a body as the guards didn't stop in the throne room, which was vacant and dark, but instead curved to the left and started up one side of the double staircases that led to the level above. Tim followed, interest rising for the first time since he had accepted the King's task.

The guard gave Tim a little smile and then went straight, through the first door one would see going up the stairs. Tim followed him through the door and then down the quiet, darkened hall. The guard nodded to a couple other guards, and then stopped in front of a door on the right. Tim stood beside him.

"Thou will not mention this to anyone else, right? I could lose my job." The young guard looked worried, and something in his voice said that he'd lose much more than what he was saying.

"I will not, I promise thee."

"Good lad." The guard then opened the door for him. Tim walked cautiously into the room and stopped. It was a medium sized room, a gentle fire crackling cheerfully in the corner. Shelves of books adorned one corner of the room along with an expensive mahogany desk and chair. A plush rug covered the stone floor, and at the opposite wall of the door stood an ornate vanity. Tim's eyes reached the far right wall; a canopy bed took up the corner. And Ziva sat on the edge. He was in her-oh.

"Um…hello." Tim greeted uncertainly, feeling intensely uncomfortable. He glanced behind him, the guard stepped into the room, and softly closed the door. Tim could get in…actually, he didn't want to think about what would happen to him if he was caught in the bedchambers of the unmarried princess.

"Do not worry, I have asked all guards to leave me be tonight. Apparently I am developing a head cold." She grinned slyly, but noticed his discomfort. She slipped off her bed. "Though we could easily go somewhere else."

"Nay, 'tis fine, your maj-Ziva." He couldn't help a small, weary smile from slipping onto his face. He also couldn't help but notice she was wearing a simpler dress than earlier, light red and flowing, her hair was braided down her back. He felt his ears warm. She sat back on the bed and motioned him over. Tim hesitantly obeyed and sat on the edge of the deep purple blanket.

"I wish to give thee something, before thou leaves." Ziva said quietly, reached behind her, and pulled out something from underneath her pillow. It glinted dangerously in the light. She held a dagger in both hands, the handle was worn, the knife clearly wasn't new, but the blade shone, clear of any dirt or dust, and wickedly sharp looking. Someone had taken very good care of it. Tim looked from the dagger, back up to Ziva. She gazed at the dagger fondly. "This was the first weapon my father ever gave me." She rubbed the handle with a thumb and then placed it in Tim's hands with an air of finality. He blinked.

"Nay, I cannot accept this, Ziva. Your first knife…" He trailed off awkwardly.

"'Tis a gift, Tim. T'would be rude to refuse it." Ziva said in a soft but firm voice, and smiled slightly at his reluctance.

Tim turned the dagger over in his hands, noticing that at one time, the handle had been adorned with tiny, interweaving flowers delicately hand-painted. They were faded now, scuffed off and worn by contact of inexperienced fingers quickly learning. He noticed some of them looked like they had been intentionally scraped off, and smiled to himself. Ziva didn't really seem like the type to tolerate pretty flowers on her maiden weapon.

It had been her first knife, and it clearly meant a great something to her. He stared at it, suddenly feeling lost again.

"I…" Tim stopped, swallowed and restarted. "Thank you, Ziva." Tim said finally, quietly. He rubbed the smooth handle, the wood warm and friendly. He swallowed again.

"Thou wilst need it more than I do at the moment." Ziva replied.

He would, wouldn't he? The weight of his agreed task had suddenly come crashing down upon him. Fear, hesitation, dread, doubt, apprehension, filled him, and kept filling him until he felt he would burst if another damn thing came up. His chest felt incredibly tight, he couldn't breath properly, couldn't function.

What was he doing?

He felt so paralyzingly young. He tried to take a deep breath but just couldn't. Somewhere deep within his mind, he recognized this state. Sobs would come soon. Shortly after, tears would make their appearance. No, he refused. He didn't cry in front of people, or at all. It had been too long. No, no, no.

"Tim? Art thou alright?" Ziva was watching him uncertainly, concern wrinkling her brow. Tim didn't react, bent slightly over, face directed toward at the blade clutched in his hand, eyes unseeing. She hesitated and then placed a hand on his arm, looking more than a little uncomfortable. She clearly wasn't used to this sort of thing. Tim looked up finally, and met her eyes. He slipped a stage closer to crying. Ziva must have seen this on his face, for the concern deepened, along with a stain of guilt. "Thou dost not have to do this." She said. These words seemed to shake him slightly. His back straightened, and he shook his head.

"I do. And I will, because I wish to marry you, Ziva. I…I, um, I quite like you." Tim's cheeks dusted light pink, and he swallowed again, which did nothing to the rapidly growing lump in his throat.

She gave him an appraising look, as if judging his statement for any falsehood, glanced at the guard who stood watching with rapt attention by the door, and back to Tim.

"Oh, fie upon that." Ziva stated finally. Surprise at her language hit Tim at the same time Ziva's lips did. They combined and stunned him into immobility. He blinked owlishly and then responded with such vigor his old chivalry and proper behavior obsessed teacher would have made him go cut a switch. Fear of what her father would do if he caught wind of this (He enjoyed living too much) and pure joy met, and got incredibly intimate with each other. Her lips departed after a short (But enjoyable/surprising/horrifying/absolutely fantastic) few seconds. The weight on his shoulders had been lightened considerably.

Ziva immediately turned and fixed a penetrating gaze on the guard, who looked astonished. The look didn't last long though.

"Well, thank Lord Francis absolutely nothing of that matter has just occurred in this room. Which means I do not have anything to tell to my king." The guard said carefully, and looked off in a completely different direction. The only thought that currently circulated prominently within his minds was how much he regretted agreeing to the princess' wishes, and how screwed he would be if anyone found out anything at all. Ziva nodded at him and then turned back to Tim, a defiant look on her face.

Tim marveled at her. He could only imagine how many nurses and governesses Ziva had driven out over the years, too independent to be tied down by how a woman was 'supposed to behave', by manners and constrictions. She must have been such a hurricane. She still was.

"If thy task leads somewhere thou can not go, then do not do it. I do not wish for anyone to die for me." Ziva stated, sight fixed somewhere over his left shoulder. "Come back, and I will marry thee, permission or not." Her steely gaze shifted until it bored into his own. He saw the pain even declaring the action brought up. Going against her father was obviously something she would never do normally.

Tim suddenly smiled as his entire view shifted onto a different gear. The perspective changing rapidly until everything focused. He would die for her. He truly would. She would disobey her father completely for him. He was doing this for her, it was all about Ziva. Wanting to marry her, to grow old together, to prevent the hurt he saw now from ever entering her eyes again. The weight of his task lightened even more. Tim would do anything to be with this amazing, frightening, strong person. Even fight a supposedly tall tale beast.

"Ziva," Tim said, and continued to grin. Confusion swept across her face so fast he wondered if she got whiplash.

"Yes?"

"I love you. And I will complete this quest for you, Ziva. But I will not die, because I promise I will come back and marry you."

She gave him a look that clearly showed that she was beginning to question his sanity, but her face softened. "Of course thou will, or I shall hunt thee down make sure thou art thoroughly dead." She half-smiled and then stood. "Now, 'tis already incredibly late. Or very early. Thou must get some rest." Tim stood, bowed, and then kissed her hand. With a playful look, she pulled him up and kissed him, even more briefly than before, but he stumbled, dazed, for a second.

Tim headed for the entrance, smiled apologetically at the guard and opened the door.

Ziva called to him as he left. "Stab someone for me." She caught sight of his grin before the guard left as well and shut the door behind him. Ziva's smile dropped off her face. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had sent him to a certain death. "What have I done?" She asked with a frown.

No one answered.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Tony called a goodbye back into the bar as they stood at the doorway a final time before they left. The inn responded enthusiastically, a few people looking surprisingly mournful at the leaving of a man they hardly knew. Angelo nodded solemnly to them from behind the bar, polishing an ever present mug. Tony shifted the roll of supplies, raised a hand in final farewell, and let the door swing shut behind them. Tim glanced between the bar and Tony.

"How dost thou do that?"

"Do what?" Tony replied breezily. They crossed the central square and headed toward the general direction of the main gate. The afternoon sun was directly overhead and blazing, driving casual shoppers into nearby pubs and shops to avoid the heat.

"That." Tim said, indicating back to the bar with a jerk of his head. "Make people thou has just met into close friends within a day and a half."

"Jealous?"

"Never."

"'Tis easy, young squire." He met Tim's eyes. "I smile." A bright grin appeared. Tim half rolled his eyes and continued to walk; however he grinned as well. Though exhaustion still was settled deep in his bones, he felt better than he had in a while. The feeling, he knew, couldn't last, but for now he might as well enjoy it and take advantage. Tony had also noticed the change, he had stopped glancing anxiously at Tim when he thought he wasn't looking. "Art thou sure thee would not find waiting 'til tomorrow more comfortable?" Tony asked casually, watching Tim from the corner of his eye.

"Aye, Tony. I am sure the comfort levels between today and tomorrow shan't be too different." Tim answered with a small smile. It was the third time today Tony had asked that. Tim knew that he wanted him to sleep more, he seemed to know how late Tim had gotten back, but each time Tim had shot him down. He didn't want to delay any further. He could catch up on sleep on the road.

They passed through the massive main gates, and arrived at the stables built just outside the city walls. Tony headed inside to pay for the boarding of their horses for the night, and to probably argue with the stable master over the steep increase in rate that the shady looking man would most definitely try and pull on two young travelers. Tim smiled as the muffled sounds of raised voices grew slightly within the small building the stables were built on the side of.

The stable master would soon regret attempting to scam them once he got knee-deep in an fight with Tony Dinozzo, the man who won a majority of his arguments by skillfully out-talking his ill matched opponents, who were often left feeling incredibly annoyed, befuddled, and frustrated beyond belief. Most of the time they didn't even know how the argument had gotten so out of their hands, and many didn't really remember how it had even ended. Just the feeling that they had lost.

Tim entered the paddock and spotted their horses. He began to pack the supplies onto his horse, which greeted him with enthusiastic stamping of feet and shaking of his mane, as Tony emerged from the building and joined him, looking triumphant. Tim smiled to himself and finished strapping his supplies to the back of his horse and into the saddlebags, though the smile faded as he took a breath and prepared what he was going to say. A majority of his mind knew that it was the thing to do, but it didn't make it any easier.

Tony drew up next to him and started placing supplies on his own horse.

"The stable master _tried_ to cheat us on our payment." Tony said with a grin, slight emphasis placed on the word 'tried', and said no more. He was clearly content to leave some things to the mind's eye. Tony finished and they led their horses out of the paddock. Tony mounted his horse, while Tim paused and shifted where he stood, scuffing the dirt with a foot, tightly holding the reins of his horse.

"Tony…" Tim started, but found himself immediately cut off.

"I am coming with thee. Thou art not going alone, and I am not being persuaded to stay here. Do not try and leave me sometime in the night either, Tim. For I shall come anyway." Tony said, unusually stern and serious. Then the edge faded away and he smiled again. "In good conscience, I could never leave thee to a task so clearly out of thine experience and skill level." Tim deflated, all his planned arguments shredded to pieces, though inwardly, he felt relieved at Tony's flat out refusal. To be truthful, he knew he would need Tony's ability to charm a nail out of a piece of wood and to cheer him up on his darkest days.

"Art thou sure?"

"As sure as I will ever be." Tony met his eyes. "Now, mount thy courageous steed, McGee!" Tony commanded with a silly, wide grin. Tim glanced at Tony with an expression that clearly conveyed how insane he thought the man to be, and mounted his horse with ease.

They exchanged a look. Excitement at a new adventure, fear of an unknown but suspected enemy, and the confidence that they at least knew they had each other's backs, flowed between the two.

They galloped off through the afternoon haze, down the main road, and beyond the point of turning back.

-

The fire sparked unwillingly to life, Tony coaxing it every step of the way until it no longer needed a helping hand. Shadows danced across his face. He sat back with a weary sigh.

It was their third day of traveling. The day that the enthusiasm for the journey and the interest in the lands that they were riding through, had usually dimmed. That time, with three days of straight riding under the belt, where the saddle was beginning to get very uncomfortable, even when you were raised upon a horse, and the rolling farmland to the right and the cool forests to the left were becoming rather monotonous.

That point in the journey where optimism and a clear head have begun to wear and become threadbare in some place. The point when one is finally hit with the fact that they are halfway to their destination, and will have to face whatever they are running toward sometime soon. They had decided to set up camp on the outskirts of the forest, close to the road.

Tim continued to poke the bright ashes of the fire with a stick, brow wrinkled and eyes staring intensely at the fire, cogs were clearly turning.

Tony glanced over. "Tim,"

He didn't react.

"Tim," Nothing. Tony tried again. "Good sir!" Still nothing. Tony blew out a breath, reached into his bag, tore the paper off a small package, and placed a hunk of salted meat into the pan that was resting above the fire, suspended by several well placed sticks. It sizzled seductively.

Tim did nothing except continue mechanically poking the fire. "I think the fire does not need any more encouragement, you tosspot." Tony said airily, but Tim didn't even rise to the insult. Tony sighed in irritation, reached into his bag again, and pulled out a peach. He pretended to shine it on his shirt, mockingly inspected it and then threw it at Tim.

Self-preservation kicked in at the sight of the unknown object, threat status unknown, flying toward him at high speeds. Tim's thoughts ground to an immediate halt, and his arms flew up to protect himself. The peach glanced off his up thrown hands and flew off into the early evening, smacking wetly off a close by tree on its way. Tony watched with interest.

"What the-what in God's teeth, Tony?"

"'Twas a peach, a very ripe peach as well. Calm down and have some food." Tony gestured to the meat, now cooked to perfection, with a knife. He scooped the meat off the pan and into a wooden plate. He sliced it in two, and gave the other half to Tim, along with a few cut potatoes and some other vegetables. Tim accepted it, irritation already ebbing at the sight of the food. They began to eat. "What was thou thinking about?" Tony asked after a moment. Tim paused mid-bite, lowered his plate into his lap, and thoughtfully rested his chin on his joined hands.

"Dost thou remember those stories?" Tim asked in a disconnected voice. Tony looked up; a bite halfway to his mouth slowed to a complete stop. "The stories, it had to be, what, five, six years ago? I was fifteen, you were about twenty. The ones about the beast that lurked northwest of Magnum Bonum?"

"Aye." The bite of food hovered, forgotten, somewhere between Tony's mouth and his plate. He was frowning. "They were never proven though. They died out a few years later, after the attacks stopped." The food was finally lowered to the plate and the plate set down upon the grass. He laid back and propped himself up on his elbows. His stance masqueraded under a relaxed air, but had an underlying current of a tightly coiled spring.

"Did they? Or did the…the beast just become better at hiding them?" There was a long pause, Tim staring intently at Tony for a reaction. Tony stared back, and without any change in emotion, responded.

"Perhaps the beast just decided to pay for sheep and merchants. Stop the silly charade of 'slaughtering' them." Tony did exaggerated air quotes along with the word, slaughtering, as if the idea was distasteful only on the grounds of how much work it actually was. "Saves quite a bit of time and effort as well." He added thoughtfully. "Though where would a beast obtain money? Side job? Apprenticeship and an allowance?" A small, almost empty smile had crept onto his face. It was nearly worse than anger, the quiet apprehension and uncertainty, and the fruitless attempts to glaze it over with humor.

"I am somber, Tony." Tim frowned, looking anxious.

"I have drawn that conclusion. 'Twould be much more amusing if thee was drunk." Tony said idly, playing absentmindedly with Ziva's dagger, which he had picked from Tim's belt when he wasn't looking. Tim snatched it away with a short-lived glare that slid off his face as quickly as it had come.

"Prithee, Tony." Tim said quietly. Tony sighed, and sat up again. He rubbed his eyes.

"What would thou like me to convey to thee?" Tony asked in a soft voice. Tim looked uncertain. Tony drew his hand off his face. "Go on. Say to me what thou wishes to hear, because I know not of what I should tell thee, Tim." Tim said nothing, only watched Tony more closely, looking less nonplussed now, just tired. "I believed the stories. I still do. And if the stories turn out no falsehood…then this task will be much harder than I had originally expected."

Silence descended, wrapping around them, sucking the life away. And then-

"Fighting a fairy tale. 'Tis not a thing knights do every day." Tony said suddenly. "One would be extremely lucky to achieve the…honor, of tackling such a task even once every ten years."

Tim looked at him critically for a moment but the corners of his mouth twitched. "The opportunity of a lifetime." He added with a small smile.

"Aye." Tony agreed simply with a nod. He reached across and patted Tim's shoulder. "Thou art verily a lucky man." Tim shrugged off his hand with a grin he couldn't repress for the life of him. Both men smiled weakly at each other for a moment. Though the conversation had gotten a bit lighter, tension hung thick in the air, coating tongues and mouths, leaving the sour taste of the unknown, of apprehension and dread not fully realized yet. Their discussion dropped off.

Night drew onward. Tim read a book, practiced some Latin, and cleaned Ziva's dagger. Tony lovingly cleaned his sword, restrung his bow, and then played a terrible song on the string, accompanied by rather annoying but amusingly dirty lyrics. Neither one mentioned sleeping, lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Tony spoke. "We should get some rest. Long day of riding tomorrow." He said slowly. Tim didn't disagree; Tony didn't try to reinforce his thought. Some fuel was added to the fire (Neither Tim nor Tony would admit it, but being blanketed by thick darkness they could not see in, would be, at that moment, incredibly not preferable), and they laid down, parallel to each other, on either side of the fire pit. Though they were less than four feet from each other, they lay captive with their private thoughts, and were completely alone.

Neither slept much that night.

-

A smooth, cavernous eye flicked open. It was a wide pool in the inky darkness, moon reflecting on the surface. Murky, black depths unending and unnerving to all who had ever seen them stared unblinkingly. Well, unnerving up to the point of one's untimely, and never to be discovered, death.

The pupil of the eye, if possible, grew even larger, encompassing the entire iris until it was nothing but a solid, black sphere. Liquid night. The eye flicked left, right, up and then forward

Nothing.

The creature was apparently unsatisfied by the conclusion that didn't meet the curling feeling in its stomach. The eye roamed again and reached the same conclusion as before. There was a groaning rumble that seemed to permeate the earth beneath the creature, growing louder and louder until the eye closed and the head lifted to the stars overhead.

The sound that pierced the nocturnal life was unlike any other in the entire world, and chilled every soul within a thousand miles.

The creature roared to the faceless moon, and then was silent.


	8. Chapter 7

I've been gone an extraordinarily long time and will not hesitate to finish posting this story. Apologies to all that are reading it!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

They almost passed by the tiny city of Quaque Nocte without stopping the next afternoon.

"Wait."

Tim gently tugged the reins on his horse backward, and he trotted to a stop at Tony's word and outstretched arm that came to rest across his chest. Tim tried to swat his hand away, but Tony didn't put it down. After a moment and then a sigh of resignation, he followed Tony's gaze to city walls just visible behind a veil of trees. It wasn't Cursum Perficio; they still had at least another day. Tim shifted in the saddle, feeling the grains of time slipping between his fingers, urgency rising. They should keep going.

"What?"

"'Tis Quaque Nocte."

Tim glanced again. "Aye. Let us continue." He was about to ride forward again but Tony's arm was still up and holding him back. He sighed. "Tony, come now. Prithee."

"Just a quick drop by, Tim. I will have thee back on thy quest, and us off in no time at all. Trust me." Tony tugged the reins of his horse to the side, gave him a smile that was clearly meant to be charming and very disarming, and started trotting his horse down the path. Tim had been the receiver of that smile, and seen the administration of it on others, too many times before to be lulled into it that easily. He sighed, and not knowing what else there was to do, followed.

He caught up and matched the pace of his friend's horse. "Is this the time to be sightseeing, Tony? We have enough supplies to last another three days, so resupplying would not be thy motivation for stopping by."

"We have more than enough time. Keep thy worries for a better time, Tim."

"Why have we diverged from the path we have been traveling since we left Derech Eretz, Tony?" Tim asked bluntly this time, not receiving an answer before.

"I have a friend here, one who I have been unable to visit for a while now. I would like to see her." Tony answered after a moment, looking more relaxed and happy then he had since they had started out.

"'Her'?" Tim said innocently, a great, wide grin on his face. Tony glanced over.

"Hey, I refrained from teasing thee that much about thine affections and infatuation concerning the princess. She is only a friend."

"Of course, of course." Tim smiled beatifically at Tony when he looked over again. "Just friends. Mates. Companions."

Tony looked a bit annoyed but mostly amused.

"Oh, aye. Make jokes. Remember, I chose to go on thy quest with thee." Tony elbowed him, trying to knock him off his horse. There was a yelp as Tim almost lost his balance. Tony smiled.

o-o

"Another bar? Did thou not drink and garner enough friends a few days ago?" Tim asked as he caught sight of the dingy bar Tony was heading toward.

The bar matched the entire city, and could be described with just that word. Dingy. Though several more could do the same job. Drab. Grungy. Dark. Dark and mysterious. Fog curled around tight alleyways and sharp, calculated street corners. Cobblestones were placed in intricate patterns, with no uniform size, shape or color, they were dark and dirt-smeared, moss growing up in between. Shadowy figures in morose clothing seemingly glided down sidewalks with a sense that they absolutely knew where they were going, and they didn't care if anyone else did. It would not stop them anyway. Tim folded his arms more tightly around himself, glad for the comforting weight of his sword at his side and Ziva's dagger snug next to it.

Tony seemed to enjoy the city, now that Tim really looked at him. He walked with calm, confident purpose, eyes glinting and alert. A funny half smile played on the edge of his lips. Tim reminded himself, Tony had been a member of the city watch for a while a year or two ago when they were low on men and borrowed from Lord Vance's army. He had loved it. Though it was more than that, it seemed like he belonged there. Tony had never said what his hometown was.

"Aye. I do enjoy a good pub." Tony said, the funny half smile still stuck on his face. "It is unnatural of thou to not be inclined toward them, Tim. Art thou not a man? Or a soldier?" He added and glanced at Tim. Tim glared back.

"Mayhap I just do not like the people who are usually there, Tony." Tim responded hotly, rubbing his arms, growing even more uncomfortable. The locals were taking notice of the two-armed men now. Tim felt eyes upon him, and then a gentle, rather pleasant laugh that seemed out of place here. They entered the bar. Or rather, Tony entered the bar, and Tim slipped in after a moment of hesitation.

The bar's low murmuring didn't even pause as they walked in. Tim had expected at least a break in conversation. They were armed pretty heavily. But no, nothing.

Just like the rest of the town, it was dark and dingy, and had the worn look of the entire city. It was as if everything in Quaque Nocte, the people included, had been handed down throughout the generations and used until they no longer could be, then collected and thrown down to the youngest child. However, the enigmatic and ancient feel of the city was ingrained into the pub as well, the bar had a warm, lively feel, almost cheerful. Tim felt himself relax slightly.

Tim followed Tony as he weaved through the tables and up to the bar. Both men plunked themselves back upon two well-loved, black bar seats. Tony swept the bar and smiled as he saw the bartender. He waved a hand over, angling his head away so his features fell into shadow. Tim felt his eyebrows climb into his hair as the woman walked over.

She was quite beautiful, as much as Ziva, but the exact opposite of her. This woman was pale, almost deathly so against the dank background and black (Revealing, Tim saw, blushed and averted his eyes) clothing she wore. Her dark hair was tucked up and stuffed into a sort of messy ponytail in the back, clearly only intended to keep it out of her bright, green eyes, but it made her look gorgeous still. She looked about Tony's age, maybe a bit older. She stopped in front of them and placed her hands on her hips, looking at Tony, an eyebrow raised.

"Aye? Would you like something to drink?"

"Drink? Nay, mayhap anon. I shan't drink when there is a comely wench I must greet standing before me." Tony grinned and the shadows fell away. Her expression, which had turned from helpful, to unimpressed at the flirtation of a seeming stranger trying to pick her up, dropped away to pure delight.

"Tony!" She squealed in joy, deep voice jumping up several octaves. No one in the bar even looked twice. They clearly knew their bartender's bizarre behavior. Tim, however, flinched at the sudden screech. She gathered up her long dark skirt in her hands, rushed around the bar, and into Tony's arms with a hug of mammoth proportions. She kissed his cheek and then solidly punched him in the chest.

"Abs!" He fake wheezed and clutched his the spot she had thumped theatrically. "What was that for, pray tell?"

"No contact, no word, not even a letter, for seven months, Tony! You stopped writing to me! I have every right to hit thee." Abby drew back and punched him again. The brief anger that had flared up on her face began to fade away to hesitant happiness again after the second punch.

"I apologize, Abby. I have been…busy?" Tony concluded weakly. Tim watched with interest, he had never seen someone so able to make Tony flustered like this. Tony glanced at Tim as if realizing he was still there. "Busy. Very busy, right Tim?" Abby looked over as well. Tim got incredibly interested in the fraying cloth of his barstool.

"And thou did not even introduce me?" She punched him lightly in the arm, Tony grinned at her and she smiled. The fist unfolded and was offered to Tim. "Hi, I am Abby."

Tim was unsure if what to do. He had never had such an informal introduction, or met such a strange woman. Hesitantly, he took her hand and shook it. "Hello, um, I am Tim."

"Ooh," Abby turned to Tony and nudged him. "I like him. He has a nice voice." Tim felt his cheeks pink, but smiled.

"Hey, he is already spoken for Abs. I, however, am not." His eyebrows danced up and down, eyes glinting. She grinned seductively.

"Well, that can change very quickly." She trailed a finger softly down his chest as she said it, but then suddenly drew it away. "But not right now." Abby gave a grin. "I have a job." She returned behind the bar, Tony looked a little surprised, but content. He spun around to face her.

Abby reached underneath the bar and, after a moment, produced two large mugs of a murky brown liquid and placed them in front of Tony and Tim with a loud clack. Even after her and Tony's playful conversation Tim could see a small, sad frown emerge on her face. Tony seemed to notice as well. He weaved his fingers together.

"I am verily sorry I discontinued writing to thee, Abby." He said after a beat. She sighed and busied herself cleaning a dirty glass.

"I…I just worry. A lot, Tony."

"I know. I know very well." Tony grinned and coaxed a smile out of Abby as well. "Abs, I will make it up to thee. Anon, I can-"

"Nay." Abby said in final tone and waved a dishrag at him, as if sweeping the thought aside. "'Tis fine. But we can catch up sometime soon." Tim watched, curious, unabashedly listening. Tony didn't really speak of his past that often besides vague stories of no meaning. She turned to Tim, who attempted to look like he wasn't listening in on their conversation. "Thou has said thee has someone?" She asked him. Tim smiled at the thought of Ziva, but they still had so far to go. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye.

"Not yet, I do not."

A look of confusion drifted across her face.

"That is actually the other reason we have come this way, Abby." Tony started. "He is spoken for, but only if he can complete a task her father has assigned." Abby rolled her eyes at this. Clearly she thought very little of marriage being assigned or bought.

"Only?" Was the word; however, that she followed this with.

"Aye."

Abby looked Tim in the eyes. Clearly she saw something interesting there, desperation to complete the task, his love for Ziva, maybe even the deep seated fear his held close to his chest to keep Tony from seeing. Whatever she saw, it hit home. Her face softened. "What may I do to assist thee in thy quest, Tim? Tony?" She asked finally, looking between them both.

"Um, Abby…" Tim started, still a bit unsettled by this tornado of a woman. She and Ziva would get along quite nicely. A tornado and a hurricane, ripping through the status quo like it was a spider's delicate webbing. "Does thou know anything of the attack that occurred, about eight days ago, north of here near Cursum Perficio?"

Her expression changed entirely.

"Nay."

"Thou knows nothing of the attack?" Tony countered, surprised. "Abby, thou knew everything about everyone when I left so long ago, thou must-"

"I know of the attacks, but thee cannot go." Abby said a little desperately this time. She was practically scrubbing the mug now, though it sparkled.

"Abby, pray tell." Tony pleaded.

The mug slammed down onto the bar, almost shattering under her grip. "I do not want thee to die!" Abby yelped, looking incredibly upset and paler than before. Bar conversation halted. Tim swallowed, feeling the hostility level jump up and try to suffocate him. All faces were watching them now, some curious, many concerned, and most wary.

The deep baritone of a gigantic man leaning against the wall called out to them. "Art these two rogues making thee upset Abby? Should we take care of them for thee?" Half the bar (The tall, bulky half) stood, faces darkening at Tony and Tim. Both pairs of eyes widened. Abby was very clearly adored by the citizens.

Abby gave a weak smile. "Nay, nay. 'Tis fine. I am fine. Though keep the idea in mind, Nathaniel." She added. Both Tim and Tony shifted uncomfortably. The men behind them finally settled back into their seats after a moment of giving them threatening looks. The conversation slowly began again.

"Zounds, Abby." Tony said in a hushed voice. Abby gave him an irritated look. "Thou has thine own personal army."

"Stop." Abby said in the cutting tone of one attempting to protect someone who is being difficult about it. "I have spoken to someone who-witnessed the attacks. Who saw the…the thing causing them" She silenced Tony's next question with a look. "Thou would never stand a chance. Neither of thee would. And I do not want to take the slim chance that thee might be able to. Given the opportunity, thou would go and be foolish, and try to kill it. Prithee, I care about thee." Abby avoided their gazes and busied herself with serving several people who had just arrived.

"Abby, pray tell, I need to know." Tim leaned forward. "Thou does not truly know me, but prithee, I need to at least try to defeat this monster. I…I-" He swallowed, but decided he was already in far too deep to stop. "-I love this maiden. I cannot not try." Tim said with a passion that surprised even himself. Tony had raised his eyebrows as well. Abby slowed to a stop in her activities, and then returned to where they sat.

"Verily?" She asked.

"Aye."

Abby looked conflicted then seemed to reach a decision. "The man said the creature was longer than twenty feet and higher than thirty, with scales that hid it until it…until it attacked. Apparently it was over within the span of ten minutes."

"How reliable is this man?" Tony asked, eyes narrowed slightly.

Abby shifted. "He had been a regular here, quite a amiable man, but a bit of a drinker. He-" Here she paused. "-he told me he was only in the fields because he had gotten drunk the afternoon that day and fallen unconscious." Abby caught Tony's raised eyebrows. "I believe he was telling the truth. He was horribly shaken and shocked. One does not lie about the kind things he told."

"Fine."

"He said he woke up in the middle of the night, saw the attack and…and did not move to escape detection." These last words came out in a rush, Abby sounded ashamed on the man's behalf. Both Tim and Tony's eyes widened.

"He let them die." Tim said softly. There was astonishment in his voice. "He saw unarmed shepherds being slaughtered, and did nothing." Tony said nothing but his face betrayed his own distaste.

"By the sound of the swiftness of the attacks, there was nothing else he could of done. He would have died!" Abby protested, though wasn't as strong as she could have been.

"Still." Tony's fingers tapped out a beat on the wood, a disappointed look on his face.

"He said it was, a dragon." Abby concluded. "From the old fairy tales." A worried expression had settled on Abby's features. Tim and Tony stiffened and then exchanged looks.

"We thank you, Abby." Tim said after a tense pause, with a preoccupied smile.

"I know thee will ignore me, but prithee, do not go after this beast. It will only lead to death." Her eyes sparkled, but whether with tears or frustration, Tim could not tell. "Tony, prithee."

"Sorry, Abs." Tony patted her hand and then gave a bright, irritatingly irrational smile. She barely smiled. "We will be careful, and I have someone watching my back." Tim half smiled. "Even if he is barely out of the cradle." The smile was suffocated by a frown. "I will see thee, Abs. Dinner sometime?" Tony proposed with a wink.

"Mayhap, Tony. We will see when thee comes back."

Tony grinned and hopped off the seat. Abby rushed around and fiercely hugged him again. Tony motioned to Tim and then exited the bar. Tim stood.

"I thank thee, Abby. Thou has been a wonderful help." Tim said. Abby then flew to him and hugged the life out of him, the air exited his lungs in a timely fashion.

"'Twas nice to meet thee, Tim." The hug lessened slightly, allowing breathing to take place once more, and Abby looked him in the eyes. "Be careful, and take care of Tony. He can be the kingdom's largest fool if allowed to be."

"I have noticed, believe me." Tim smiled, and in that moment, they connected in mutual irritation and worry about a rather insufferable man. After a second, the moment shattered. "Um, good day, Abby. I hope we can meet again, under less…unconventional circumstances."

"As do I. See thou, Tim."

She let go of him and he left. Abby felt a tear fall and brushed it roughly away. Tears wouldn't help. Another fell, unheeding of her thoughts.


	9. Chapter 8

****Now...the dragon.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

The sun was just rising above the horizon when they finally reached Cursum Perficio. They stood on a hill overlooking the city and the sparkling coast it stood upon. Tim and Tony looked upon it in awe. Neither man had truly seen the ocean that surrounded the peninsula; both of their hometowns were far inland. Cursum Perficio looked gorgeous, more important and otherworldly than it truly was. The city was bordered by farmland and fields for several hundred yards on the three other sides, and then the tall forest that covered more than half of the kingdom beyond that.

It was a lot of land that they had to cover.

"Should we enter the city, or comb over the land a bit before doing so?" Tony asked him after a moment. Tim looked to Tony in surprise. Right, it was his task. He turned back to the city. Jimmy was down there. Tim wanted badly to at least greet him before they started (Or were stupidly killed. He inwardly winced.) but he would volunteer to help them. No, he couldn't risk someone else's life as well.

"Let us look around a little first." Tim said finally, uncertainly. What else could they do?

o-o

Dusk was beginning to settle into the land, and Tim ached.

Before they had started out, both men had agreed that wearing armor and arming themselves was definitely necessary, so they put on as much as they dared without constricting their ability to run away like frightened children if need to do so arose.

Tim could hear Tony crashing faintly off to his right, cursing and taking out his frustrations of their fruitless search on the innocent flora and fauna. Tim had to admit it was wearing on him as well. The first few hours were incredibly tense and nervous, each man expecting the huge beast to burst out from behind the enormous tree trunks and swallow them whole. Though nothing like that happened, and they didn't encounter anything bigger than a few frightened swallows (Which probably should have been their first clue), and suddenly it was seven hours later.

Tony's cursing and murmured complaints faded as he trundled farther away, widening their search. If Tim was correct they had another day of searching tomorrow, and another after that, and another after that to cover at least three quarters of the land if they hurried. He sighed.

Maybe there wasn't any dragon at all. Just a frazzled old tosspot who saw things, and a murderer who killed shepherds and herds of sheep for fun. Either way, it was very bad news.

"Tony, we should head for the city, 'tis too dark now." Tim called out to Tony, who didn't answer. There was a quiet, barely heard curse far away. Tim blew out a breath in frustration. He started heading off in the direction he thought he might be able to intersect Tony. He swiped out at several thick branches, doing himself more damage than the branches. He cursed under his breath at them and rubbed the bruises underneath his armor. Tim picked his way onto a fallen tree and began to walk across it, arms held out at his sides.

Suddenly a bird darted out from a bush he had knocked an arm into and across his path. He flinched backward, and with all the extra weight, fell heavily to the ground, rolling a few feet down an incline. Tim groaned softly and dizzily leveraged himself into a sitting position. He did a mental check over and found that nothing had broken, only bruised. He felt around in the shadows and retrieved his dropped shield. He smiled as his hand closed around the smooth metal. Tim's eyes slid upward and he froze.

His mind went completely and utterly blank. Two large eyes watched him with utter surprise, placed deeply within an even larger head, connected to an impossibly large body, almost indistinguishable from its surroundings. The dragon dwarfed him twenty times over. Thousands of hard, impenetrable scales gleamed gently in the dying sunlight. Tim didn't move an inch. Neither did the beast. It just watched him disbelievingly.

Tim finally pried his eyes from the dragon and flicked them around once. A clearing. The dragon was nestled in a dug out hole in the side of a big hill. He had fallen straight into its den. The only reason he was still alive was that he had surprised it. Thoughts began to thaw within his mind, mostly ones that hurled self-abuse and accusations of absolute stupidity. He didn't stand a chance. Tim couldn't force himself to move.

"Tony," He squeaked out, and of course, he didn't hear him. Fie. Fie, fie, fie. Slowly he drew his arm and his shield back to him. Progress, but too slow.

"Hey, Squire! Good Sir! We should head back!" Tony shouted from nearby, the beast's gaze redirected for the briefest of seconds, and Tim's iced exterior fractured. He sprang up, shield pressed against his chest, and sprinted toward Tony's voice.

"Tony!" Tim borderline screamed. He was drowned out by the ground rumbling roar close behind him. The beast had finally registered his sudden appearance. Tim sped up and caught sight of Tony a two or three yards ahead, looking shocked by the noise and his sudden appearance.

"Tim, what in God's wounds-"

"Go, go! Dragon, Tony! We are not prepared!" He frantically shouted out fragmented thoughts to Tony, who got the message. Tim didn't need to see Tony's dawning look of horror, to realize the dragon had become visible behind him, he felt the ground quivering underneath his feet, trees were snapping and falling behind him. Tim tripped, fell and scrambled up, palms burning, mind frozen. Tony had finally gotten over his shock and was running ahead of him, urging him onward.

The edge of the forest was in sight, and the castle beyond that. If they could…if they could…

They had nothing. No plan, no tricks, absolutely nothing. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Tim was flung sideways as a huge claw came smashing down, clipping his side. Clods of earth and branches, flung upward, ricochet off his armor. He smashed through two small trees, and lay there winded, stars blossoming before his eyes. He had no chance at all, he never did. A sound akin to a large earthquake exploded in front of him, almost shattering his eardrums. His armor trembled. Tim sat up painfully, and drew his sword, shield held firmly in his other hand. He could at least give Tony a chance to get away. Tim stood with the help of the broken trees he had bulldozed, stepped out, and faced the dragon.

Another screech filled the air and Tim prepared to be shredded in tiny bite-size pieces. Realization took hold after a long second. It wasn't roaring in triumph, or anger, but in pain.

"Do not just stand there, thou idiot!" Tony shouted in a hoarse voice. There was a large grunt of exertion. "Run!" An arrow pinged powerfully off the beast's chest. It roared in pure fury and agony. Tim's eyes traveled upward to its head.  
>Three or four arrows were already buried in the beast's right eye and several in its nostrils. Tony always had been a very good shot. Another arrows sped and imbedded itself in a niche caused by a lost scale. The dragon flinched back for a moment, but clearly not for long.<p>

"McGee, here!"

Tim scrambled backward, tucking his sword away and dodging a massive tail attempting to separate his head from the rest of his body. An arrow singed over his head. Tony probably didn't have too many left. He leapt over a branch and caught up with Tony, who looked exhausted and terrified. He let his bow slide down his shaking arm and matched Tim's frantic pace. There was a furious scream behind them followed by huge booming gallops and the death fell of trees.

They broke the forest line and began racing across the fields. They still had hundreds of yards until the castle, and nowhere to hide. Tony glanced back and gasped. Tim followed in suit. The dragon had almost completely caught up; it was less than thirty feet behind them and gaining. Not stopping, Tony drew his bow out again and fired out a shot that went wild and completely off in another direction. He drew a breath, held it and stopped running. He stood completely still, string pulled taut, arms trembling in effort, aiming upward.

"Tony! Tony come on!" Tim was almost begging now, desperate. The beast picked up speed, sensing a change in tactics. Tony waited, seat pouring down his face, and then fired. With the air of a master, he pulled another arrow out and fitted it into his bow. Tim ran a shaking hand down his face and then drew his sword. He stepped several feet in front of Tony, out of his aim, and put up his shield. The man was insane. Absolutely out of his mind, but as long as he was going to try something that might save their lives, Tim would try and help him, even taking the brunt of the attack so he could try.

Tony let loose an arrow and quickly fitted another in, firing now with reckless abandon. The dragon drew back in pain, gigantic, leathery wings flaring outward as it reached them. Tim stood his ground, tensing, shield facing the dragon and sword held at the ready. The beast slammed the ground with a dense front foot; there was burning anger and pain in its remaining eye. Both men stumbled backward. Tim turned back to Tony and stopped. Tony had a look of resignation on his face, his last two arrows held tightly in a hand, bow in the other. They had no chance.

Tim whipped forward, slashing his sword at the claw that was crashing toward him and jerking himself backward. It was like hitting a boulder, it did absolutely nothing but elicit a clanging sound. Sparks flew and Tim fell onto his backside, barely able to keep the sword in his hand.

One of Tony's last two arrows whistled through the air and pinged off the dragon's scales as it turned its head toward Tony, clearly intent on savaging the person who had been shooting it. Blood dribbled down from the beast's, now unusable, right eye, Tony's arrows still embedded deeply in it.

Tim pushed himself upward, wrist throbbing, and raised his shield as the creature reared upward slightly, and with a horrible screech, swung its club-like claw across toward the two men.

In the space of five seconds, Tony raised his bow again, and with precision, fired his last arrow. Tim leapt in the claw's path, bracing himself.

At the exact same time, the claw smashed into Tim, deflecting it just barely over Tony's head, making his hair flutter slightly, and the arrow connected with the dragon's belly.

Tim was thrown backward into Tony, his shield dented and cracked as horribly inward as his chest plate had become. Tim had an odd sense of déjà vù. There was a sickening crack, though this time not from his ribs, and fireworks exploded in front of his eyes as his head connected with something very, very solid and something warm and wet ran through his hair. He felt incredibly sick, though pain was strangely absent at the moment as his world numbed; however, he had a sneaking suspicion that it would be back soon enough.

Everything dimmed considerably, and sounds seemed to turn their own volume down to a faint buzz. There was a sudden down rush of air upon his face, as something huge and dark took off heavily into the sky with a faint screech.

"Come, Tim." A voice whispered shakily, unsure, in his ear. Something hoisted him up, and supported him on solid shoulders.

The world darkened to nothing.

o-o

He hit a bump and surfaced to consciousness with a strangled whimper.

"Good, thou art up. Focus!" A hand slapped his cheek with considerable force. Tim blinked, attempting to do as the voice requested, but everything remained foggy and far away.

Stars. There were so many…

"Tim, prithee," The exhausted voice came again. "Where does Jimmy live? Thou must tell me, squire. And try not to pass out again, 'tis not a soldier-like thing to do." The voice was strained, but he could practically see a weary grin. "Do not make me tell the other men on our return that thou fainted at the sight of a mere dragon."

There were so many of them, so many stars blurring together. He blinked. Pain and nauseousness swelled together in a horrible symphony that dipped and weaved through him.

"Focus, McGee!" Another slap, this time softly on the back of his head. Coupled with an order to be obeyed no matter the fact his head felt like it had been filled with cotton. "Jimmy! Where is he?"

He knew that. Tim tried to think, everything was painful and thick, thoughts weren't functioning as well as they had a little while ago. "C-Cursum Perficio,"

"Helpful as always, Tim." Frustration, sarcasm and concern mixed in equal doses within the voice. Tony. Thoughts connected.

"…Near the…docks." He was gritting his teeth now. Everything was just…too much, he was jostled again and pain rippled through him. "With Doctor Mallard…ouch." He added in a voice that seemed surprised and very far away. "Only dark blue house…on Arthur's Way." Tim gasped out between gritted teeth.

Darkness encroached his vision, and then swallowed it completely.

"Grammercy, Tim, and do not worry. I will keep thee safe, good sir…" Tony's voice curled into the darkness.

His whisper followed Tim into oblivion, with statements of trust, a bright smile, and a teasing joke.

He knew no more.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"When I asked if both of thee would visit, I did not really expect this."

"Well, Jimmster, we are quite the unexpected kind of gentlemen." There was a clapping sound of a hand connecting with a shoulder. At the sound, Tim's eyelids flickered slightly.

Still in gentle throes of sleep, he fuzzily debated making the attempt to join the waking world. He had a terrible feeling there was a lot pain waiting on tenterhooks for him to fully wake up so it could jump him. He began to drift again, half listening to the low voices.

"I never got to ask, what were thou two doing to receive these injuries?"

There was a long pause.

"I…well,"

Tim jumped up several levels of deep sleep into a lighter doze, attention focusing a bit more. There was a deep drawing of a breath. Tim could practically see the hard, what-the-heck look settling on Tony's face.

"We were attempting to repel the attack of a dragon."

There was an awkward pause. Tim was glad he wasn't awake and part of the conversation.

"A dragon. The beast of stories and rumors from our childhood."

"Aye. And strip that look from thy face, Jimmy, skepticism does not become thee." Was the dry response.

"Oh, okay." A breath. "A dragon then." He said firmly after a beat, resolving himself to believe. _Good man Jimmy_, Tim would have smiled. "Why?"

"Did thou receive the letter Tim sent thee?"

"A day or two ago. Is this because of the princess? Did he actually go?"

"Aye, after some pushing. He was chosen by your majesty."

"Verily?" Came a joyful response.

"Aye, but her father," The word was bitter as it exited. "He assigned a task after the decision, to gain her hand in marriage. He was clearly not impressed with the class difference. Tim was told to take care of the attack that occurred here, to eliminate the menace. Which turned out to be a dragon."

"That…that…" Words seemed to fail for a moment. "That is a suicide mission. If the stories were true…" He trailed off.

"Well, we are not dead yet." Came the frustrated, slightly sharp edged reply. Though Tony seemed to become aware of this, and there came bark of light laughter apparently in the vain hope of lightening his last words

"Why did both of thou not inform me? I could have helped thee. I still can." Tim heard the uncertain hurt in Jimmy's voice and inwardly winced.

Tim could feel the startings of pain trickling down into the dark recesses of his sleep, and realized he could no longer stop his ascension into consciousness. Tim burst into the light, and immediately snapped his eyes shut, head feeling as if it would burst.

"Ow…"

"Good morrow," Tony greeted cheerfully, a look of relief sweeping across his face. Though whether this was because Tim was awake, or because it was a distraction away from answering Jimmy's question, Tim couldn't tell. Slowly he became aware of all the other pain. It was like waking up and discovering someone had taken a club to you while you were out. "_Now_thou chooses to stay awake! I was forced to half carry thee all the way here." Tony said, wide but weary smile on his face. "The guards at the gate almost refused to let me in, carrying my unconscious friend in from the fields late at night. I convinced them though. And if anyone asks, thou had a few too many at thy bachelor party."

"Must thou ruin my first impression at every town we visit?"

"Aye, 'tis my job." Answered Tony with a grin. Tim returned a strained one, and squeezed his eyes shut again as there was a jagged spike in pain from his right arm.

"Where does it hurt thee?" Came a worried voice close by. Tim opened an eye.

"Oh, good day, Jimmy. How art thou?"

"Me?" Jimmy looked taken aback for a moment before exasperation moved in. "Great, compared to thineself. Art thou all right?"

"It hurts a bit, but I will be fine." Tim then smiled, apparently unconvincingly, at Jimmy, who looked doubtful.

"Thou hath a broken arm, I think thee is in more than a bit of pain."

"What?" Tim glanced down at his right arm and felt a rush of shock; his arm was splinted tightly and wrapped thickly in white fabric. He attempted to sit up, but pain rushed from his arm. He collapsed back with a groan. After a second, Tony helped him sit up slightly, and then returned to his seat. Jimmy winced in sympathy and walked over to the fire with a sense of purpose. There was a gentle clink of a kettle.

Taking deep breaths, Tim looked around his surroundings for the first time since he had woken up. They were in a small room; cozy but incredibly well furnished, with expensive but weathered furniture. He himself was lying upon a large, soft, navy colored couch. Tim had the uncomfortable sensation one gets when one realizes that the thing one is lying on is worth more than oneself.

However, as he looked around, the room looked less and less normal. Beakers and glasses dotted tables and balanced in crowded groups upon chairs, some bubbling, some holding strange looking substances or familiar looking objects he was glad he could not see properly. Stacks of books and scribbled notes upon a desk in the corner, upon further inspection, were on subjects he had never even heard of, or had heard of but dismissed. Rows of different types of herbs and plants lined the space underneath a windowsill and a mortar and pestle, along with a board with a knife, stood nearby. Tony lounged, limbs draped in uncomfortable looking positions, in a plushy chair close by.

"Here, drink this." A teacup was placed into his left hand, steam spiraling gently upward. Jimmy pulled up a hard desk chair and sat down next to the couch. Tim blinked and then inspected the liquid; he couldn't help thinking of the notes and plants by the window. He glanced back up at Jimmy, who had put on the eternally patient look doctors learn early in their careers from dealing with difficult patrons. He glanced back down at the dark liquid, almost completely black; it unhelpfully gave him no clue of what was it contained.

"Um…"

"Drink the tea, Tim. I promise 'twill not harm thee."

"What is in it?" Tim asked, still not making any moves toward drinking the tea.

"Peppermint and essence of white willow bark, among other things. It will help with the pain."

"Bark?" Tim questioned with more urgency and nervousness than he knew was necessary. "Other things? What other things?" Jimmy looked a touch harried.

"Drink the tea, Tim, or I will be forced to _help_thee drink it." Tony said in a flat voice from his chair. Tim raised his eyebrows but took a hesitant sip. He frowned at the bitter edge, but took an even larger gulp. The liquid slipped down to stomach and stayed comfortingly warm, spreading readily throughout his body; the pain began to blunt at the edges. He slowly drained the rest of the tea, and let the cup drift down and settle in his lap.

"Grammercy, Jimmy." Tim thanked, cheeks warming at his original hesitation to drink the concoction. He gave a brief smile in return.

"'Twas nothing." Jimmy waved a hand at Tim's thanks then leaned forward, curiosity lighting his face up. "Did it work?"

Tim's brow crinkled at Jimmy's sudden interest, he glanced down to the cup again, feeling as though he had missed something. "Aye, the pain has dulled considerably."

A joyous, almost doubtful smile grew on Jimmy's face. "Verily?"

"Aye, aye, Jimmy! What is it?"

"I have never made the pain alleviating tea successfully before." Jimmy said with rare pride, looking almost in disbelief. "I cannot wait to tell Doctor Mallard!" He added excitedly, adjusting his spectacles.

"Sorry? Thou gave me medicine that thee was not certain would work? Or even if thou had made it properly?" Confusion, panic and anger wrestled for control, but eventually, after a lengthy battle, bemusement and irritation came out on top. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, attempting to dissuade the throbbing in his head from worsening, and then ran his hand through his hair, or tried to. He drew his hand back as his fingers encountered thick gauze on his head. He looked back to Jimmy. Jimmy had finally shaken himself from his glee and looked a bit embarrassed.

"I apologize, but I knew thou wouldst need the medicine and Doctor Mallard had stepped out to visit a patient." His face suddenly brightened. "He is brilliant, Doctor Mallard, he knows more about the body and medicines than any other person in the kingdom and is the best doctor in the peninsula. He has these theories about disease, that 'tis actually caused by these little living creatures…" Jimmy began to explain the theories and all the things he had been taught, what different herbs to heal what and how one may be able to stop the spread of disease. Tim turned to Tony, who returned a look that clearly said he had heard all of this in extensive detail while Tim was out, and still had no idea what Jimmy was talking about. Jimmy ended by apologizing again.

"'Tis fine, Jimmy. Grammercy." Tim reassured wearily, he had only been awake for a short while but already felt drained. "Thou was only trying to aide me." Jimmy smiled apologetically.

"So, how am I? What needed repair?"

"Thou has a broken right arm, 'tis a clean break though at the elbow, 'twill heal fine given month in the brace. There were quite a few bruises as well, but all only painful rather than life threatening. Thou also had a rather nasty knock to the head along with a shallow gash, and was rather addled a night ago when thee arrived." Jimmy said. Tim wasn't sure which bothered him more, the fact that he had been unconscious a full day and half, or that something may be wrong in his head. Jimmy must have seen his concern. "Do not worry, thou seems coherent enough today and we kept thee awake until thou gained thy bearings. I do not think there was any damage done." Jimmy finished with a small smile.

"Apart from the damage that was already there." Tony added, finger raised scholarly. Tim would have shot a look at Tony but was more relieved at Jimmy's answer. "Look on the bright side, no broken ribs this time." Tony gave a Cheshire cat smile.

Tim half glared at Tony, half grimaced in embarrassment at the memory. Jimmy grinned as well. "Wonderful." Commented Tim. After a second, their situation came into focus. "Grammercy, Jimmy, and prithee, thank Doctor Mallard for allowing us to stay, but we need to depart." Tim attempted to get up, but was pushed gently back by both Tony and Jimmy, too tired to put up the fight he aspired to.

"Tim, thou needs to rest and heal." Jimmy frowned, looking uncertain.

"Thou shan't be going anywhere, without doctor's consent." Tony nodded to Jimmy, who looked surprised but rather pleased, and collapsed carelessly back into his chair, which gave a pathetic groan.

"We do not have much time, Tony." Tim insisted with a high sense of urgency. "We have already spooked the beast. There is no certainty that it will stay within the area for too long."

"But we have injured it as well." Tony added, shifting to a more upright position. "I shot it. Several times. Though I did notice something…" Tony trailed off thoughtfully and then snapped his attention back to Tim. "As much as it pains me to say so, thou art correct. However," He said sharply as Tim opened his mouth. "We need a plan this time." Tim shut his mouth and nodded. Jimmy looked between the two.

"I would like to offer my assistance as well. It may have been a while since I have used a weapon, but I…I think I still can. Also, thou will need someone to look after thee if thee refuses to stay and rest like a sane person." Jimmy's face was hard and resolved, but there were slivers of old fear and hesitation lurking just below his mask. "Even if thou dost not see me fit to assist." Jimmy added in a smaller voice, more to himself.

"Jimmy," Tim started, after a second of surprise. "'Twas not that at all. "Thou doth not like fighting, I did not want to drag thee back in. And, I…I did not want thee to be injured or…killed. I knew thee wouldst want to come with me and would refuse to leave. Like Tony." Jimmy shot a glance at Tony, who gave a shrug and a small half smile.

After a beat, Jimmy said, in a slightly uncertain voice, "Thou was right, I am coming, and I am not leaving." He then folded his arms and glanced between the two men, looking uncertain if they would let him come.

"Grammercy." Tim allowed his head to drift back onto the pillow. His eyes drifted closed of their own accord, the tension he had been holding onto for hours (Days? Months? Years?) finally uncoiling slightly. Weariness embedded itself even more deeply within his bones.

"Sleep. Jimmy and I will plan a little while thee art out. It seems like I am doing all the work these days!" Tony chastised gently. Tim fell asleep with a smile on his face and two soldiers standing guard for him.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"I highly recommend that thee and thy friends dissuade thyselves from _whatever thou is going to do_, Mr. Palmer." Doctor Mallard advised, eyeing them in amused interest as the men inconspicuously (Or so they tried) retrieved their supplies and prepared in the front entrance way of his home. He descended stairs and three pairs of eyes watched him in guilty surprise, all action stopped.

They had, in the end, decided to not tell Doctor Mallard about what they were going to do. Jimmy initially expressed quite a bit of dismay at this, but had become resigned. He knew it was the right thing to do.

Tim, Tony and Jimmy paused for a moment at the knowing tone of Doctor Mallard's voice, looking at each other. Tony and Tim emerged guiltily from the side room doorway, Tony hiding two bows and most of his armor behind his back (Not very well), Tim attempting nonchalance while straining slightly as he carried his and the rest of Tony's armor under his working arm. Jimmy had frozen, arrows held tightly in his hand, stopped in mid-motion as he was placing them into a bag. Doctor Mallard gave a warm smile.

"Next time, I suggest not hiding the bows and quivers of arrows thou hast bought in town over the past three days in the study, on top of the wardrobe." Jimmy's cheeks pinked slightly at this and he looked apologetically to Tony and Tim, who were both carefully inspecting their shoes. Even Tony, at twenty-six, looked more than a bit shamefaced. Doctor Mallard stared at them for a moment. "Well, art thou not going?" He asked. All three of the young men looked up, looks of surprise flashed across each face in varying degrees.

"Doctor?" Jimmy squeaked out finally, he still hadn't moved.

"Thou wilt go, no matter what I tell thee." Doctor Mallard said simply, eyes sweeping over Jimmy, then Tony, then Tim. "To do whatever dangerous task thou is planning to do. I cannot stop thee. But I can ask thee to reconsider."

"We can not do so, Sir, Doctor Mallard." Tim said quietly, adjusting his arm in the hasty but effective sling Jimmy had thrown together. He winced at the strong throb of pain. At least the bandages on his head were gone though; he didn't need stitches, and had taken them off as soon as he could, though Doctor Mallard had advised against it.

"Then be careful. Think, lads, before thou acts." He urged and then looked to Jimmy, who had finally stood up straight. Doctor Mallard's gaze softened slightly. "Thou wilt find a portion of mandrake and other herbs in thy bag very helpful for Timothy's pain, since he refuses to let himself heal properly." Tim looked bashful. Ducky came over to Tim and redid his sling into something more sturdy and supportive. "Try not to jostle my work, Timothy. I may have set the bone, but 'tis nowhere near fully knit yet." Doctor Mallard advised seriously, looking Tim directly in the eye. Tim felt like a child again, young and incredibly small, even though he had quite a good amount of height over the Doctor.

"Aye, Doctor Mallard. I will try my best." Tim answered with a nod. Doctor Mallard stepped away.

"Mr. Palmer,"

"Aye, Doctor?" Jimmy looked nervous, as if Doctor Mallard would not allow him to be his apprentice anymore. Just kick him out on the street altogether and never look back. Realize that taking him on as an apprentice was a mistake all along. He wrung the bag in his hands.

"I will see thou back here on the third day before the Ides?" Doctor Mallard asked in an even, normal tone. Surprise broke down the front door and flooded onto Jimmy's face. Hopefulness followed close behind.

"Nay, sooner. Tomorrow." Jimmy returned with a hesitant smile.

"Be careful, Jimmy."

"I will, Doctor."

Doctor Mallard then glanced to Tony, who almost stood to attention. "Anthony, keep an eye on Mr. Palmer. I do not wish to have to go looking for another apprentice."

"Aye, Sir." Tony said, back ramrod straight. Tim swallowed and felt incredibly out of place. After a second, he coughed.

"We thank thee, Doctor Mallard, for allowing us to stay here and for patching me up. Goodbye." Tim took initiative, nodded to the Doctor with a gracious smile and then slipped out the door.

"From me as well, Doctor." Tony grabbed the last quiver of arrows in his spare arm, nodded to Doctor Mallard with a grin and followed Tim out. The door shut behind them with a small thud. Jimmy swallowed and looked at Doctor Mallard, who returned the gaze.

"I…um," Jimmy stopped and started again. "Doctor, if I…if I do not return, I have thoroughly enjoyed being thine apprentice, and would not trade it for anything in the world." The words spilled out, clumping with each other and bunching in his sudden desperation. There was a pause. "Grammercy." Jimmy said finally, a flush rising on his face. He then quickly scooped up the rest of the arrows and his bag, his old armor clinking together within, and dashed out the door.

And Doctor Mallard was left alone, in his large empty house. He stared at the closed door and sighed, aging twenty years in a second. He seemed ancient. Older than the world itself.

Doctor Mallard said nothing in return. And really, what was there _to_ say to a person who was already gone?


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Tony would never admit how flimsy their plan truly was, he would stick by it with an enviable bravado and certainty that it would succeed, edged by a preoccupation and wariness he wouldn't voice. Tim would admit it after some prodding, but, only if pushed, would he finally concede that they truly had no other plan, no other ideas, and that worried him greatly. Jimmy would admit his fear in a nervous halting manner, doubts of the plan (Not even really a plan, more of a very vague, temperamental approach) spilling forth embarrassingly, pushing up the spectacles Doctor Mallard had gifted to him.

But all would agree that there was no other way to go about this. There was truly, no other plan. No path that forked down the middle and offered another way out. That was all they could think about as they stood at the edge of the forest, early morning dew glinting in the long grass, dampening their shoes and pants legs.

They stared into the shadows of the forest, neither making a move to go in.

"How do we even know the creature has returned to the forest?" Tony questioned after the longest of moments, giving Tim a sideways glance.

"We do not, but 'tis our best bet." Tim replied about as firmly as he could with every sense on the highest alert, sirens within his head silently wailing at their stupidity. Again. He shifted the several quivers of arrows slung on his left shoulder. "Thou injured it, how severely we do not know. But, as we did, it will mayhap will go lick its wounds in a safe place. The forest, in its burrow. Hopefully." Tony looked doubtful, but didn't protest. Instead, he drew his bow out and tossed the other to Jimmy, who fumbled but caught it, determination and fear churning together on his face.

"Come, Jimmy." Tony then gave a closed off grin that didn't reach his eyes. "We have a monster to bait. Stay here, Timmy."

"What?" Tim questioned in surprised. All of them froze as his raised voice echoed slightly in the silence of the newborn day, eyes focused on the forest, peering around for danger. After a second, silence returned as powerful as ever. The tension eased a bit, but no one truly relaxed. After a second, Tim continued, a touch softer. "It makes no sense that I stay here, I should go in and draw out the dragon."

"And in what way does that make sense?" Tony asked, eyebrows contracting. "Thou were injured, Tim, after the _first _meeting with this beast!"

"The remedy Jimmy gave me is working, I do not feel much of the pain." Tim protested. "Doth thou know where the burrow is, Tony." Tony's lips pressed into a line. Tim knew he was pulling ahead. "I only have one arm in use, and I cannot cover thee when thou art drawing the beast out. But, Tony, thou can cover me." Tim insisted. He then added, "Thou art the best shot." Jimmy nodded. Tony looked unconvinced but worn. Tim tried to smile reassuringly but failed. A painful-looking grimace was produced instead "We do not have another option." Tony ran a hand across his face, covering it completely for a fraction of a second, allowing the mask to slip for a moment. The hand then fell away, and the wall came back up.

"Be quick, and do not do anything stupid."

"I never thought that would come out of thy mouth." Tim quipped, and managed to achieve a smile this time, though it was small and rather sad. Jimmy snorted, and grinned. Tony's eyebrows bobbed up but then he smiled as well.

"Oh. Oh no. I am turning into thee, Tim." He took a few steps back, knelt down, and notched an arrow loosely into his bow. "What horrible thing have I done in life to deserve this?" The grin shrank to a small, calm half smile. It was the kind of look one adopts while waiting for an oncoming storm. One knows it's coming, powerful and unpredictable and just plain mad, and one knows one can't stop it. All one can do is roll with the punches and accept that fact. "Go. I will cover thee, Tim, Jimmy. Remember, keep some distance. I would not like to bring thy remains back to the princess and to Doctor Mallard in the saddlebags."

With two terse nods and no glances back, Tim and Jimmy set off into the forest. Shadows crawled across the ground as the sun rose from the horizon and made valiant attempts to pierce through the foliage above them, casting an eerie green tinge on everything. Tim placed a hand on Jimmy's arm and then headed off in the direction he had come last time, Jimmy followed close behind, eyes wide.

They kept going, over fallen trees and deep gouge marks in the earth made by sharp claws. The crouching figure of Tony soon was hidden from sight by dark, moss-encrusted tree trunks. Tim stopped as a hand lightly touched his arm.

"Look," Jimmy breathed out, voice completely stripped of all emotion. Tim turned and looked in the direction his gently shaking finger pointed to. He gaped. A good portion of the forest far to their left was charred and black trees, branchless and skeletal, falling over on each other. "'Tis unnatural." Tim barely caught the two words Jimmy whispered. That wasn't there three days ago. Tim looked to Jimmy, who looked petrified. They weren't ready. "Thou didst not tell me the thing breathed fire." Jimmy said weakly.

"I did not realize it could." Tim responded, and not knowing what else to do, turned away and kept walking, folding his good arm supportively up against his sling. He picked up his pace considerably. Jimmy stared for a few more seconds but then followed Tim again.

After about twenty minutes, they were practically jogging straight through the forest. Tim began to recognize the part of the forest, his heartbeat sped up. He spotted the dead tree trunk he had walked on then fallen from. He didn't want to go any farther. Tim turned to look at Jimmy over his shoulder and nodded. Jimmy closed the distance between them and matched his slowed pace, hand gripping the bow so tightly Tim was slightly surprised it didn't begin to bend and crack. They approached the log and then peered over it. Jimmy flinched back at first but then crept forward again to join Tim, who hadn't moved, a blazing, determined, rather fearful look on his face.

The dragon was curled up at the bottom, it had wedged itself as far as it could go into the depression and was unmoving. Jimmy swallowed.

"Is it…dead?" Jimmy's voice trickled into Tim's ear. The whisper was hopeful, surprised and fearful, all at once. Tim kept watching. A thin, grey column of smoke wafted from the nostrils of the beast, scales quivered and shifted as a slow breath was released and then drawn in. "Fie upon it." Jimmy swore quietly, and then shakily fitted an arrow into his bow. He turned to Tim. "Ready?"

"As I will ever be. I am glad to have met thee, Jimmy."

Jimmy returned a toothy smile. "And I, thee." He then turned forward and the smile fell away to a frown, concentration creasing his brow. He drew back the arrow, muscles straining at the old practice long abandoned.

The first arrow went wild, sailing far over and out of sight.

The second buried itself almost up to the tail in a nearby tree. Both men froze, but the dragon stayed stagnant, apparently not hearing the dull thunk as the arrow entered the trunk. Tim gave Jimmy a, hopefully, reassuring smile. Jimmy apologized, he had never been the greatest shot anyway, and drew another arrow from the quiver offered by Tim.

The third arrow rapped smartly upon the sleeping creature's scaled head, just below the ruined eye, and fell off to the side. Tim and Jimmy stilled, one large, navy colored eye widened impossibly. Jimmy then roughly jammed another arrow into the bow and fired more than a little recklessly, not wanting to lose the will. This one went true as well, nicking the damaged skin around the eye. There was a deep, low growl that wormed its way into their chests, quickening their heartbeats. The next arrow went father from the mark, glancing off the beast's back. Tim glanced at Jimmy, who looked ashen but emotionless, hands shaking as he fit another arrow in. They both began to back up.

The endless purr grew in strength until it was almost a roar, leaves vibrated above them, falling before their time. The next arrow went too far to the right, glanced off of a tree and, with incredible luck (Good or bad, Tim didn't know which), nestled into a bare spot between claws. Tim's eyes widened. He grabbed Jimmy's arm and roughly pulled him away. They began to run, slipping, almost falling, regretting, achieving. The world exploded in noise.

Jimmy slowed to attempt to cover his ears, but Tim didn't release his arm, pulling him bodily forward and forcing him to match Tim's frantic pace. They had a considerable lead, and the beast was injured, but it wouldn't last for too long. Maybe, if they were lucky, long enough to take advantage of Tony's fire. Tim's own eardrums burned but his only usable arm was already towing Jimmy, spikes of pain jumped up his broken arm with every jostle even with the pain reliever. This noise was unlike the ones he had heard before, it was the screech of a creature that had nothing to lose, that would dive over the edge of the world to end its attackers, that would die trying. Despite the pain, Tim picked up his pace.

Lumbering steps far behind and the crash of trees, were strangely reassuring. Something was actually going right. A ragged laugh was torn from him; Jimmy spared him an alarmed look. Tim never thought he would see a day where he was actually _glad _a gigantic, murderous beast was chasing after him. How strange life was. Or at least his life.

The tree line was in sight now as both men leapt over a fallen tree trunk, cumbersome armor clanking together.

"Tony!" Tim shouted, panting doggedly. "Get ready!" There was no answer but Tim knew Tony had heard and was waiting. They were beginning to slow now, winded and weary. Tim glanced behind them and almost choked. The lead they had acquired was being eaten up at a great speed. He forced himself, and consequently Jimmy, who he had yet to release, to run faster, it felt like adrenaline had replaced blood in his veins now. They broke the tree line, Tim finally relinquishing his hold on Jimmy, and slid across the grass, past a crouching Tony. "Now!" Tim screamed, but he didn't need to, Tony knew what to do.

The beast leapt out of the forest, maw wide-open, single eye wide and burning. Tony waited a second and released the arrow being drawn on the bow, arms quivering slightly in exertion. The arrow buried itself deeply into the unprotected underside of the dragon. As did the next a second after, and the one after that. Dark, skeletal wings snapped open mid-leap, and with a screech of pain and rage, the creature glided up.

Tim and Jimmy lay panting on the grass for a second, Jimmy then sprang up, drawing his own bow, and reaching behind to the quiver hung on his shoulder for an arrow. Every single thing about him at that moment suggested that this was a nightmare he couldn't wake up from, but that he would die before he allowed his friends to get hurt. He and Tony stood side-by-side, arrows aimed at the sky, bows taut. Jimmy, afraid, Tony, resigned. Tim wished they had never come. He wished he had had the backbone to say no, or to slip out quietly one morning and do this alone. Then no one would get hurt. Well, almost no one.

The dark shape of the dragon wheeled around in the grey, cloudy sky and came rushing back, diving toward them at great speed. Tim struggled to his feet, every part of his body crying out, it was still too soon since the last abuse it endured, though his arm was the worst. If he could just lie down and quietly pass out, it would be all his birthdays and Christmases thrown together and wrapped with a red bow. But that wasn't an option. Tony and Jimmy began to fire, Tony with experienced, quick, powerful pulls, Jimmy with novice, shaky motions but enough determination and desperation to make up for it.

The creature was swooping down now, claws extended forward. All three men dived away, last fired arrows spiraling off wildly into the sky. The dragon barely missed them, the tip of a claw just clipping Tony's helmet. It ploughed into the ground, showering dirt everywhere, and then turned, muscles rippling with every step. Tony took aim from the ground, firing at the belly again. Tim quickly moved up to spot close next to him, handing over arrows just as quickly as Tony could shoot them.

There was a low threatening rumble of thunder as anvil-shaped clouds drifted above them, and the first of a thousand raindrops began to fall. The dragon reeled back from the onslaught, tail curling tight around itself, shielding the stomach. It was weakening, blood soaking into the earth. Arrows pinged harmlessly off scales.

"I do not have any shot!" Tony yelled, and Jimmy stopped haphazardly firing long enough to concur with his statement. The creature was learning. Tim handed Tony another arrow and tossed away the empty quiver, taking out another, gears turning in his head.

"Mayhap, I could-" The words shriveled up and died as he saw the dragon open its mouth. It drew a deep breath that ballooned out its body. Burned forest. Tim's eyes widened. "Move!" Surprised, Tony and Jimmy looked toward the dragon. Jimmy understood immediately. Tim grabbed Tony's arm and pulled him one way, Jimmy rolled another, fire poured from the dragon's mouth. The field burned with red flames, spreading quickly throughout the tall grass.

Tim and Tony collided together on the ground and saw, in open-mouthed astonishment, the flames jettisoned forth onto the field. They scrambled back, away from the unnaturally spreading fire. Tim was partially glad, somewhere deep within his mind, that they hadn't been able to really fix his chest plate; cooking to death within his armor wasn't something he would find incredibly pleasant. They spotted a terrified looking Jimmy a few yards away, jumping back to avoid the fire crisping the grass.

The sky took then took this chance then, in a very brief moment of absolutely fantastic luck, to open up and shower. Rain pinged off their armor, soaking them, and dampening the fire, which sputtered to a flicker and was then put out. The dragon saw this and crouched even more, looking furtively from Tim and Tony, to lone Jimmy.

"Thou had a plan?" Tony asked Tim, drawing his bow again. "Because our supply of arrows is dwindling, and we need a good idea." Tony fitted another arrow wearily into his bow. "We need it to expose its stomach."

"Um," Tim's eyes flicked around and then settled back on the dragon. "Nothing foolproof." Tim dropped the remaining quiver of arrows he held and drew his sword, though he felt naked without his shield. Or an arm to actually hold his shield. Before Tony could object, he charged out, sword held high, feeling like an idiot. The dragon watched him as he flew closer and slowly uncurled.

Tim, instead of stopping, kept going forward and slashed down upon the beast's nose and backed up as quickly as he could have come. It lashed out at him with a claw, Tony began to fire. Tim dived away, black dots swarming in front of his eyes as he hit the ground again, resisting the urge to lose consciousness. He swung his sword again, glancing off of hard scales. He rolled away as it tried to crush him. The dragon staggered now, arrows sticking out of its belly. It had turned into a glorified pincushion. Tim retreated, sword sagging to his side. The dragon lurched after him and did a final lunge.

Arrows flew above him, and without thinking about it, Tim drew out Ziva's dagger, rubbed it in his hand, and then threw it with an accuracy he didn't have usually. The dragon collapsed to the ground, rolling onto its side, and gave a final heave of breath. Tony and Jimmy stopped firing, and there was no sound except for the taps of rain on metal. The dragon didn't move, the huge body uncomfortably on its side.

"Tis…dead." Tony said after a second. He approached the body and then nudged it with a toe. It, remarkably, did nothing. Tony turned. "Um, well done, Jimmy, Tim." After a second, bright smiles broke out on wet, grimy, weary faces. Tim found himself in the middle of a mix between an enthusiastic, relieved group hug and a manly, rather gruff handshake. A smile slipped onto his face.

They had done it.

An even bigger smile broke his face in two. He had a wedding to go to soon.


	13. An Epilogue Of sorts

ANd here we are, we've reached an end (of sorts) to this tale. I don't know if anyone's reading this, but I'm very, very glad if you are, or have been, this whole time. Thank you!

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><p><strong>An Epilogue (Of sorts)<strong>

Jimmy returned to Cursum Perficio, saying goodbye to his two friends. He would come to the wedding if they invited him. Both Tim and Tony gave him a look. _When_they invited him.

Ducky didn't try and hide his relief. Neither did Jimmy.

Tony stopped at Quaque Nocte on the way back. Abby squeezed the life out of him, kissed him and threatened to kill him and leave no trace if he ever did anything stupid like that ever again. He promised to write more often. She told him that, _he had better_, and that she was going to visit him soon. Tim wondered if Magnum Bonum could handle someone like Abby, tight clothing, dark makeup and all. She had said this with a toothy, sexy smile, so apparently it would be forced to.

Tim and Tony returned to Derech Eretz soon after that, bringing along Tim's broken arm, Tony's skinned fingers, more bruises than they could count, Ziva's knife, scoured to within an inch of its life to get the bits of dragon off, several huge scales, a report from a guard confirming the dragon's slaying, and two bright smiles.

They didn't need an appointment this time.

The king nodded approvingly, his face was purposefully blank, but there were tinges of regret and guilt in his eyes. However, he didn't apologize or make amends. Tim didn't expect him to.

Ziva saw his broken arm and various other injuries, and gave him a look that was a cross between concern, and anger that he had put his life on the line for her. The exact thing she asked him not to do. She shook her head in relieved exasperation.

Tim proposed marriage to her again, and she said yes, giving him a different look, one that clearly said that he must be an idiot if he thinks she's going to say no.

He wasn't about to disagree with that.

Life went on as normal. Or as normal as they could get.

No one truly lives, "Happily ever after", but they were fairly close.

_An End and A Beginning_


End file.
